Category Archives: grace

March 19, 2013 · 12:55 pm

The Wasteful Weekend

So Much Wasted Seed

So Much Wasted Seed

What a waste.

Twice a year, a large team of people head to the Texas Youth Correctional facility in Corsicana, TX.  There they lose three days and spend a huge amount of money feeding, caring for, speaking with and offering grace and love to some of the incorrigible adolescent males incarcerated there.

Many of those troubled kids will be transferred straight to an adult correctional facility when they turn 18.  In the meantime, they are there for a reason. Someone, or lots of someones, reached a point where they’d said, “No more. Lock them up.  Get them off the streets. Too much trouble.”

More waste.  Once a month, part of this team spends another long day in Corsicana for a “reunion.” They converse, pray, read the Bible, offer a smile, and perhaps a decent meal or snacks.

Why bother?  Those boys will never amount to anything. Lost boys.  Lost time.  Lost money.

Sunday morning, one of the team asked to come to the pulpit for an unscheduled announcement. More time wasted from perfectly choreographed worship and my oh-so-carefully prepared sermon!

“It was awesome!” she said, smiling at me. A few weeks ago, I’d given a message on the meaning of the word “awe” and how we have so cheapened the worse “awesome” that it has lost impact.

“Yes, awesome. Yesterday, ten of these boys opened their hearts to Jesus and were baptized. And each time one got dunked, the entire room broke out in cheers.”

By the time she’d finished, those worshiping with us were in tears.

Then I began my message, expounding on the story of a woman who poured out her entire life’s savings, a bottle of expensive perfume, upon Jesus’ feet. She wasted everything she had on this fruitless gesture of love.

A waste. There are four versions of this story in the gospels. After each one, we see a reaction: plans for betrayal, plans for murder, heavy criticism.

We don’t like waste.

“Quit wasting time,” we admonish our children and ourselves. “Don’t waste your money” we cry out on crazy acts of generosity. “Be careful of resources—we’re going to run out!”

No time for daydreams, meanderings, dawdlings, the mystery of worship, the acts of charity on the undeserving. Every minute, every dollar, must show productivity.

We echo the witness to that poured out bottle of perfume who snarled, “How ridiculous. That perfume should have been sold and the money given to the poor. What a waste.”

Yes, by all means, let us be efficient, non-wasteful. Let us eliminate anything that seems aimless or excessive, not functional.

Here are a few ideas. First, get rid of all fashion designers. How seriously wasteful to continually come up with new ideas for colors and hemlines and cuts! It would be ever so much more efficient to put us all into shapeless and formless gray sacking.

How about musical instruments? Eighty-eight keys on a piano keyboard!!! And electronic pianos and organ have multiple keyboards! Wasteful. Just eight keys should be plenty—after all, they just keep repeating themselves. Think of all the time and space savings there!

As for art . . . how many colors and different mediums do we need? What’s with these palettes that contain hundreds of colors and different shadings? Wasteful. Twenty four are plenty–one good sized box of waxed colors should be enough for any artist.

As for the love of God—good grief! Look how indiscriminately it is spread around!  If one is to believe some of the stories written about this strange phenomenon, some of the most degraded and undeserving people ever born have been graced with forgiving love.

Pure waste.

Oh yes, let us be efficient and effective. And waste nothing. And very possibly miss out on the mystery of a wasteful God, spilling over with wasteful grace, lost on an ungrateful people, and still never-ending.

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December 4, 2012 · 3:42 pm

The Consumer-Driven Church Model, Part Three

Note: this is part three of a three part series. Part One is here; Part Two is here.

Three Things to Keep in Mind

First: not all growth is good growth.  When effectiveness is measured only by numerical growth, we make the fatal mistake of assuming that just because something grows rapidly, it is doing so under the blessing of God.  All gardeners and physicians know this:  rapid growth doesn’t necessarily mean good, healthy or desired growth.

Second:  the process of making disciples is a long, slow, and often painful one.  A disciple is one who is actually willing to walk the path of the Teacher, in this case, Jesus.  That path leads to the cross, a place of utter aloneness and excruciating pain.

It is at the cross that the question must be asked and answered:  Will I be a person of forgiveness and reconciliation, no matter what the cost, so I can go all the way to the resurrection?

Most will say no.  It’s not fun anymore at that point.  It’s no longer bells and whistles and loud music and video screens and constant movement and distraction.

Discipleship takes place in those moments when we are called to be still, to know that God is God, and to be able to say with the great man of old, that poor, beat up Job, “Even though He slay me, yet I will praise Him.”

Third, unless we address the deep and expensive structure of The United Methodist Church, we are doomed to follow the consumerist model.  But the cost to maintain our current structure leads us to think we have no choice.  And a place of no choice opens the door to the sin-compromised state where the ends are worth the means.

If we are going to go forth and do what we are called to do, then it is time to completely re-examine what holds us together.

When I entered into this church, I was drawn to two primary areas:  the expansive, inclusive, wide grace-infused theology and the power of being a connectional church.  Our theology turns us toward God and showers us with grace. Our connection turns us toward one another in covenant relationship.  In covenant, we may pass that grace around, support one another as necessary and together live out the daily challenges of being disciples of Jesus.

A consumer-driven model is rarely grace-filled and is fundamentally competitive, not covenant or connectional, in nature. Others must fall for us to stand.

Consumerism means that those who know little of grace, little of deep sacrifice, little of the challenges of picking up our crosses daily, call the shots.

I look at the money that was spent to pull off the show we call “General Conference” this past year and weep.  Every need had to be catered to.  It appeared on occasion that the least gracious hijacked the floor and engineered the direction of the Conference.  The displeased consumers, i.e., delegates, kept threatening in one way or another to take their business elsewhere.

The administrative arm of the church, which should be there to enhance the work of the local discipling community, instead pulls giant amounts of money out of the offering plates each week and month.  It loads upon local clergy and congregations, that place where the work of discipleship takes place, impossible-to-decipher forms and strangling requirements for minutely detailed reports that are never looked at except to determine how much money to squeeze from them the next year.

The world laughs and says, “You have nothing useful to say.”

But we do.  Yes, we do.  We have the Gospel.

And yes, we must address the crisis.  But it is much deeper than numbers and noses.

Let us answer the primary question first:  “What IS a disciple of Jesus Christ?”

Then we can ask: “How can our forms of worship, gathering, instruction, connection and structure actually aid in the process of shaping those disciples?”

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· 3:42 pm

The Consumer-Driven Church Model, Part Two

Note: this is the second of a three-part series.  Part one is here; part three is here.
 

The Church is In Crisis

I suspect everyone agrees that The United Methodist Church, as a world-wide organization, is in crisis.  Our membership grows older and the death tsunami looms. Few churches see a vital future. People in the US church, who have been the principle financial support of the worldwide church, are moving away from denominational religious structures.

The crisis leads to pressure to have numbers that look good. We’re no different in that sense from any business that must please its stockholders and keep itself solvent for the sake of the economy and for the employment of the people involved.

One of our solutions has been greater accountability as we seek to push those numbers into the plus column and reverse the trend of losing members.

In response, denominational leadership, i.e., our Bishops (like worried Boards of Directors of corporations) cry loudly for public dashboards where pastors  (their underlings) will be required each week to post attendance, offerings, the number of those joining, being baptized, and making professions of faith the Sunday before.

“Metrics” have become the rallying cry to ensure survivability.

Those metrics will define pastoral effectiveness.  The pastor with the best numbers gets the most accolades, “attaboys,” glory and promotions.  Nickels and noses are all that count.

Sounds pretty consumerist/corporate so far.

A recent article in the United Methodist Reporter exemplified this trend.  A megachurch with an organ that alone probably cost more than the entire church building where I serve, is investing $2.1 million dollars to seek to attract new, young worshippers.

They’ve completely revamped a meeting space so that it has every bell and whistle anyone could want in order to present a high-tech, visually stimulating, professionally planned and choreographed worship time.  The musicians and technicians are all highly trained, and all paid.

According to the article, the young pastor, a gifted man for whom I have much respect, will be fully funded for nearly three years.

This is the best of all business—or church—start up strategies.   Everyone knows that it is easier to start large than to start small.  Any business walking into a new area wants immediately to gain a huge footprint and lots and lots of name recognition.

Get the people in the door, make sure they have a great experience, and send them back out hoping they’ll tell others about it.

I hope this works.  I hope the metrics do look good.  I hope this becomes a vital congregation, full of life and growth.  I hope that so many people come and so much giving takes place that people will stop bemoaning the fate of The United Methodist Church.

But I do wonder if it will make—or shape—disciples of Jesus Christ.

Note: this is the second of a three-part series.  Part one is here; part three is here.

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· 3:41 pm

The Consumer-Driven Church Model, Part One

Bizarro Comic Strip, November 14, 2012

Bizarro Comic Strip, November 14, 2012

I recently walked out of a local electronics store in some frustration.  I have an older inkjet printer that needed new ink cartridges.  Now, ink cartridges are some of the biggest consumer rip-offs ever devised, so I wasn’t in a great mood when I walked in.  My irritation grew when I realized that my aged printer does not have its exact model number indicated on any of the multitudes of printer cartridges available.

Two different sales staff tried to help; each came up with a different solutions.  Both admitted that if I bought a cartridge, put it in the printer and it didn’t work, that I could not bring it back—possibly wasting a lot of money.  Only solution: go back to the office, open the printer case, hope the exact model number of the cartridges I need were there, and then come back and buy the exact match.

Result? First, I have resolved to purchase a different printer, and never, ever again touch one made by that particular manufacturer. Enough is enough.  Second, I probably will give it two or three thoughts before I go back into that particular consumer electronics store again.  It really isn’t their fault—but I am disenchanted.

I find it easy to decide to change both printer brands AND store preferences.  Printers and stores abound, all competing mightily for my business.  I can and will freely hop from place to place, brand to brand, price to price.  All it takes is one bad experience and I’m out of there.

That’s a lot of pressure to please.  Retailers know it.  Manufacturers know it.  Designers know it.  And everyone hops frantically like so many adrenaline-fed bunnies trying to please us increasingly fickle consumers so we’ll stay loyal to their brand.

As the Bizarro cartoon above says, “they are huge now, but I’ve been a fan since Monday.”  And next Monday, someone else will be huge, someone else will be pleasing the fickle crowds.

This is why a consumer-led church builds on a problematic foundation.  The church is not called to please.  We are called to make, or I prefer, “shape” disciples of Jesus Christ.

The moment we buy into the consumer-led model of church growth, using business success as our model, we have inevitably left that mission of shaping disciples behind.

Why? Because the moment we displease someone by . . .

  • offering a worship service that is not quite perfect or as good as the one down the street
  • presenting a nursery that doesn’t have the latest in child check-in/check-out procedures
  • stepping on someone’s toes theologically
  • insisting that people work through their conflicts with each other in the name of a higher calling
  • asking people to follow Jesus to the cross and forgive their enemies and do good to them so they might really experience the resurrection

. . . we run a huge chance of  losing our “customers.”

At its essence, Christianity is anything but a consumer-pleasing religion.

Jesus did not please very many people.  The larger crowds hung around hoping for a feeding or healing miracle.  When Jesus disappointed, they quickly dispersed.  They were the first century equivalents of our consumer religious folks.   Even the closest of Jesus’s disciples were in it for themselves—they did want those most powerful right and left hand seats in the kingdom, after all.

 
Note:  This is part of a three part series.  Part two is here; part three is here.

 

 

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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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November 1, 2012 · 12:56 pm

Invisible People

Last Sunday, I asked people to think long and hard about how they treat others in a way that makes them invisible.  I had used a scene from the movie “The Help” to illustrate it.  There, the black maids, who made life possible for their white and privileged employers, were also invisible to those very employers.  Their employers spoke about their maids as though they were not there and denied them the most basic of courtesies.

At the end of the message, I suggested we all remember what if feels like to be rendered invisible by others see what we could do to raise our consciousness of the invisible people in our lives.

I, of course, am not exempt from raising my own consciousness.

This morning, after a necessary meeting in Denton, I decided to head to the grocery store.  I needed only a few items and, as is my habit, looked for the shortest check-out line, having a strong dislike of checking out my own groceries.

One looked nearly empty, so I unloaded my cart.  As I did so, I realized the woman checking out prior to me was having trouble entering her PIN for her debit card.  My initial reaction:  annoyance.  I hate to admit it, but it was true.  I had things to do, and I’ve seen this happen before, where an older, somewhat forgetful person, will have trouble checking out.

Now, the fact that I am also older, and becoming more forgetful, did not enter my mind until later.  I just wanted to be done and get on with other things.

As the woman fumbled with her purse, she dropped a credit card on the floor.  She was unaware of the problem, so I retrieved it for her.  A minute later, having switched to cash after being unable to make the card work, she dropped her change on the floor.  I also retrieved that for her.

At this point, I looked her fully in the face.  She suddenly became a real person to me, not just a delay in my schedule.  A beautiful face—the kind of beauty that only comes from an older face that has years of practice of loving others—responded to my look with a beaming smile.  I asked if she needed help getting her groceries to the car and loaded.  She said, “No, her daughter was in the car.”  Then she sweetly thanked me and left the store.

By then, my few items had been rung up and I paid for them.  As I reached for my purchases, I realized the woman before me had left a small bag of items on the counter.  I mentioned it to the checker, looked out the door, and saw her slowly making her way across the parking lot.  I said I’d take care of it, quickly grabbed her bag along with mine and headed toward her.

I caught up with her as she and her daughter, a woman I would guess to be near my age who gave me the quick impression of having some mental impairment, were unloading the cart.  My help was again sweetly declined as they gratefully took the bag, and I headed back to my car, on the other side of the parking lot.

It was then that I began to think of my message last Sunday:  she who was invisible had become visible.  She who had been an impediment to my schedule had turned into rich blessing with the beauty of her smile and graciousness.

And I have been humbled as I’ve wondered how many others I have kept invisible this morning.

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August 24, 2012 · 10:46 am

To Do An “Akin”

 

There is probably not even one halfway awake person in the US who has not heard about the comments made by a formerly obscure candidate in Missouri for a US Senate seat.

Last Sunday, Todd Akin suddenly burst from his obscurity with a comment so hateful to women and so stupid in reasoning that I wouldn’t be surprised if a new phrase is formed. Can’t you hear it now?  “Oh boy, I just did an “akin.”  People might utter that upon discovering they have just done or said something both imbecilic and hugely insulting to others.

Thanks to the instantaneity of our news media, Akin’s comment ricocheted to every possible publicity source within seconds.  News articles reporting it had thousands of comments, the vast majority decrying this man’s ignorance and insensitivity.

Akin certainly apologized for having said what he said.  Multiple times, apparently.  He is now a political pariah, although at the time I wrote this article, he was determined to stay in the race.  But no one who has any hope of political power or influence wants to be affiliated with him.

But I always have to ask this question, “What is the gracious response to this man?” I have to ask because, no matter how appalled I was at his statement, Todd Akin is still a fellow human being.  As such, he should be treated with respect.

Keep in mind that I found the comment so distasteful that I refuse to reproduce the contents of his statement in this column (if you haven’t heard about it, just do an Internet search for Todd Akin, Missouri—you’ll find it quickly).  Even so, I must search my own soul and say, “OK, Christy, how would you want others to treat you in a similar situation?”

I’d love to say I’d never be so stupid or so hateful, and so would never have to worry about this.  But in all honesty, I’ve done my own “akins” on occasion.  Not so publicly, to be sure, but I, too, am excruciatingly human.

I suppose that is why the concept of grace has long intrigued me.  The word carries lots of meanings. They all seem to be positive.  A dictionary offers these possibilities:  elegance or beauty of form, manner, motion, or action; favor or goodwill; a manifestation of favor, especially by a superior; mercy; clemency; pardon.

Synonyms include:  attractiveness, charm, gracefulness, comeliness, ease, fluidity, kindness, kindliness, love, forgiveness, charity, mercifulness, lenity, leniency, and reprieve.

While I appreciate the idea of fluid, easy movement and comely appearances, I find myself far more drawn to the concepts of forgiveness, charity, mercy, and leniency.

So, in the name of charity, mercy, leniency and forgiveness, should Todd Akin be elected to a spot of national leadership?

Akin has apologized multiple times for having made the comment.  However, I did not see a place where he personally disowned the idea itself, although he obviously regretted saying it aloud.  But is that enough?

I would guess that he still holds to the core principle behind that remark, a principle that both demeans women and has been proven to be untrue by good quality research.

This seems to me like so much of human experience. When we are caught doing something wrong, the “I’m sorries” are quick to flow.  However, often those apologies are not accompanied by a real change of mind and heart.  The only plan in place concerns not getting caught again.

Again I ask, “Is that enough?”

Jesus once said that many were called, but few were chosen.  Could it be that many are called to lives of leadership and influence in the Kingdom of Heaven, but only a few are chosen because only a few are willing to discipline their thoughts and actions to be conformed to a holy example?

Can willful ignorance be enough to disqualify ourselves from hopes of heavenly grace?  What do you think?

 

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August 7, 2012 · 4:44 pm

The Fox in the Henhouse

Is it gracious to let a fox loose in a henhouse?

I believe most of us would say a hearty “no” to that, but think about it a moment.

Assuming for just a moment that foxes can talk, suppose a fox comes to you, the henhouse owner, and says,

I know I’ve had  some problems in the past, and may have possibly caused harm to a few of  your plump little hens. However, all that took place when I was a young fox, still quite immature emotionally, with undeveloped  techniques for dealing with my temptations and perhaps just a few boundary issues.

However, I have reformed.  I want you to know that you were right when you expelled me from your area, and made me live for a while  where I had no access to hens.  Now I am mature and know my boundaries. I am sure I will never hurt your hens again.

 Your henhouse was my favorite place.  It is comfortable and I am happy there.  Remember, I am a living creature, just as those hens are, and I also deserve to have a place to live that is comfortable.

 I am asking you to let me back into the henhouse. After all, you say you are a believer in grace and in giving second (and many more) chances to those who make mistakes.  Since you want grace yourself, it seems to me that you should also give me grace and open that door for me.  After all, doesn’t that Bible of yours say that you need to forgive and to be reconciled to the person who did wrong? I have apologized, after all.

Now, what would you do?

 

The fox has made a decent theological argument.  We are supposed to forgive, so the henhouse owner needs to forgive the fox for having eaten a number of his hens and terrorized the rest of them.

Maybe the fox really has reformed!  Wouldn’t that be amazing–to show the world that a fox can live with hens and not hurt them?  It would be a miracle–who could resist that?

So, would you open the door of the henhouse to the fox?

Of course not.  A fox is still a fox.

Nonetheless, a church in Dallas has essentially done just that.  They’ve opened the doors, placed a person in pastoral leadership with a known history of sexually predatory behavior toward young teen girls, and said, “Hey, this is in the name of grace!  After all, he’s learned his lesson.  He says he’s got a firm handle on his boundaries now.  It’s a miracle!”

I ask, “Just how gracious is it to the vulnerable teens in that church to intentionally place a known sexual predator in a position of trust?”

I read about this church’s decision the day after I spent hours in a seminar to learn how to identify sexually predatory behavior.  Most sexual abusers live and work in positions of trust.  They are likeable, believable, charming, and enjoyable to be around.  They carefully groom the gatekeepers, those who have the responsibility of protecting children and youth, and gain amazingly free access to their victims.  Few are caught and prosecuted.  Most abuse hundreds of victims over their lifetimes.

I am all for healing, for growth to greater maturity, for miracles.  I want to breathe the world of grace, and am utterly grateful for the grace of God and the grace of my friends, family, colleagues and church members that is showered on me.  To give that back is my greatest privilege.

But grace does not mean that we intentionally leave unprotected the most vulnerable of our societies.  Keeping the fox out of the henhouse may not seem gracious to the fox, but it surely is gracious to the hens. Let’s be wise, folks. Not condemning, but wise. We can do this.

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July 21, 2012 · 5:56 pm

Further Reflections on Bishop Bledsoe and the Nature of Grace

The Nature of Grace

I’ve got the whole concept of grace heavy on my mind today.  In a world held together by a gracious God, I am more and more aware that we don’t always receive what we want and never receive what we deserve.

Others have written eloquently about this subject, particularly Dietrich Bonhoeffer:  “cheap grace is the preaching of forgiveness without requiring repentance, baptism without church discipline, Communion without confession. Cheap grace is grace without discipleship, grace without the cross, grace without Jesus Christ,”  and Philip Yancey, “God dispenses gifts, not wages. None of us gets paid according to merit, for none of us comes close to satisfying God’s requirements for a perfect life. If paid on the basis of fairness, we would all end up in hell… In the bottom line realm of ungrace, some workers deserve more than others; in the realm of grace the word ‘deserve’ does not even apply.”

Troubling Events

I will not write with such eloquence, but I do write with these things in mind: the troubling events of the last week where Bishop Bledsoe was involuntarily retired and then not given the an episcopal appointment he expected assuming an appeal of the ruling for the involuntary retirement.

According to the reports, the committee who had the responsibility of evaluating Bishop Bledsoe’s work chose to take the path they saw as most compassionate and most gracious:  encourage him to take voluntary retirement so he could go out with honor and with reputation essentially intact.  Then he could assume, without stain or question, some of the responsibilities and privileges that are awarded to retired bishops.

Bishop Bledsoe indicated that he would have rather this be fought by people filing formal charges against him and duking it out in a church court.  Those charges may now be filed, so he may have his wish.

Which Option Most Gracious?

Now, which of those choices most fully represents the kind of grace we hope to receive from God?

I will readily tell you that my sympathies are with the first options–an honorable way out, reputation intact, and damage control beginning.  But there is a major downside:  truth will not fully be told and rumors will abound.  Real healing does not take place in an atmosphere of secrets and partial truths.  And there is a bundle of healing that needs to take place here.

This is an important issue, not just for us, but for the larger world of Christianity.  I’ve written more about that here.

The second option troubles me because it means drawing sides, determining winners and losers, and the introduction of lawyers into the mix.  There is a reason why the Apostle Paul was horrified nearly 2000 years ago to learn that Christ-followers have taken their conflicts to courts.  Lawyers have important functions, but bringing out healing truth is not among them.  Rarely does graciousness invade the courtroom.

We Must Acknowledge Sin

So I go back to the nature of God and what it means that God is gracious to us.  I know that when I don’t acknowledge my own sins, I am simply unable to gain freedom from them.  I must name them in order to find forgiveness.  I must repent in order to move in a different direction.

When grace permeates that process, my confessions are done with a combination of hope and tears, but without fear of a punitive response from the hand of God.  Nonetheless, I will indeed experience human results of choosing sin over righteousness.

Why?  Because God must also hold with gracious tenderness those who have been hurt by my sin.  Sin is never an individual act. It always affects the larger community.  Even so called “victimless” sins stain the soul. A stained soul, particularly one laden with secrets that must not be disclosed for fear of repercussions, cannot freely move within any relational activity, be it family, church, friends or workplace.  There are always wider ramifications.  Always.

The Necessity of Church Discipline

Since God must hold with grace those in the larger community as well as the individual, and since all want the fullness of grace (even if not knowing those words or having a real understanding of the concept) restoration becomes a communal act.  Sometimes that restoration means that the individual, especially one who will not acknowledge wrongdoing, must be sent from the community.  This is what the Scriptures mean in the passages about church discipline.

I have heard horror stories about people being kicked out of churches for the most trivial of reasons. I have talked with numerous deeply wounded people who have experienced the worst of a rigid, judgmental, and apparently hate-filled churches.  The decision to ask someone to leave a community must be done with multiple safeguards and with careful awareness of our own need for grace.  Sometimes, however, like it or not, expulsion is the most gracious of all acts.

Let’s go to the behavior of children for an illustration.  When children are not taught how to conduct themselves in a manner in which they recognize the rights of others as well as their own, they are set up for a lifetime of rejection.  It is not gracious to let rude, insensitive bullies have their way.  It is not gracious to refrain from teaching children self-control so they have the tools to navigate schools and workplaces.  It is not gracious to reward or even ignore tantrums and selfish acts, for the child not properly corrected and taught more healthy ways to deal with human interactions will grow into an incompetent adult. Sometimes, we need to expel children for a time from the community until more adequate decisions about behavior are reached and implemented.

Simply, grace sometimes means we don’t get what we want, but means we get what we need to move to maturity, be it spiritual, social, physical or intellectual.

We Don’t Get What We Deserve

The other side of grace is that we also don’t get what we fully deserve.  Those who are willing to receive grace, and the correction, teaching, instruction and shaping that comes from grace, begin to gain eyes and develop sensitive souls that perceive the Kingdom of Heaven. They find the entrance to that holy place.

Do any of us deserve entrance?  Certainly not.  We are given an invitation–but we do need to be clothed in the proper clothes. Those clothes are given in the acts of repentance coupled with willingness to receive correction.

To go back to this situation with Bishop Bledsoe, it appears that some seek did offer correction and that he received them as those who either had different opinions or were operating out of sour grapes.  Could they have spoken more strongly?  Perhaps.  I think there is a language issue here, and I’ve written about it here.  But why would that become necessary?

At some point, the habit of not listening to correction becomes ingrained in human hearts, minds and souls. People become like hardened soils where the seeds are eaten by birds and the blessing of rain just runs off, unable to sink in.  Then the sweet invitation to confession, repentance, restoration and adjusted paths can no longer find response.

Was the Resolution Gracious?

So, has what happened been gracious to all concerned?  I am saying a qualified yes.  I suspect the original decision to encourage the Bishop to retire without the necessity of disclosing more fully the problems moved a bit close to cheap grace, although done with the best of intentions. The Bishop’s refusal to receive it this way ended up moving us closer to real grace–because some things have had to be disclosed.  The decision to remove him from episcopal leadership for the present shows a wider grace to the larger connection as well as to Bishop Bledsoe, for it would not be possible at this time for him to serve without significant shadow and for genuine trust relationships to build.

The more full manifestation of grace will appear as every participant or observer of this very tough situation seeks greater capacities for self-reflection and lovingly-given, truth-based accountability.

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