division – Salvaged Faith

What Happened in Damascus?

Posted on July 4, 2021Leave a comment

Text: Acts 9:1-20

Our scripture today starts with lines drawn in the sand.

Us verses them.

The faithful, orthodox, Jewish leader vs. the rebellious believers of the Way.

Division.

Destruction.

And everyone so sure that they were on the side that was right.

You know, on this national holiday weekend, I can’t ignore how this kind of “us” vs “them” language echoes the kind of nationalism we find too often in the world.

We, the shining city on a hill have been blessed by God.

And in defense of our beloved nation, we’ll come after anyone who disagrees with us.

Anyone who is a threat to our way of life and our values.

That is what Saul was doing, after all.

He believed in his tradition, in the law, in who God had called him to be.

And he was willing to defend it all with his very life… taking other lives if he had to.

If you weren’t with him… you were against him.

But in the same way, that “us” vs “them” mentality was present in the followers of the Way of Christ.

When Ananias receives a calling from the Lord to go to Saul, his very first response is to name that man as doing evil… compared with the saints on his own side.

Good verses bad.

Right verses wrong.

Insiders verses outsiders.

Both have cause for why they believe what they believe.

Each can point to actions of the other that would justify their own positions.

There is that old adage that there are two sides to every story and today, I certainly don’t want to get caught up in excusing either side from their actions.

Nor do I want to say that there is not, in fact, a good… a standard… a godly measure of how we should be that we should all be held up against.

Maybe more of what I’d like to note is a simple observation from Stephen D. Jones, “not many of us are ‘breathing threats and murder’ against our opponents. However, we have all been on wrong paths… We have all been headstrong, stubborn, blinded to our own ambition, selfish to meet our own need…”[1]

And in part, I think this story of what happens in Damascus is a reminder that God is not interested in the lines that we have drawn.

God is not interested in the labels we throw at one another.

God doesn’t care about our nationality or pedigree or longevity with the faith.

God is not interested in our us verses them arguments.

In fact, God flips all of the scripts and expectations on their head to change everyone’s lives and instead orient us towards life in the Kingdom of Heaven.

In our Acts study book, N.T. Wright calls Saul a “hardline, fanatical, ultra-nationalist, super-orthodox Pharisaic Jew.”

And yet… he’s the guy that Jesus calls to reach out to the non-Jewish, Gentile community.

Ananias is likely a newcomer to the way of Christ. Damascus was about 135 miles from Jerusalem and you can’t imagine that in this short of time that the good news about Jesus would have taken a very deep hold this far out yet.

And yet, this non-Israelite is the one who Jesus calls to go to Saul.

This non-apostle, non-deacon, ordinary, regular guy is the one who God uses to heal Saul and who baptizes him with the Holy Spirit.

In many ways, God is telling us that it doesn’t matter who you are or where you come from or what your story was…

You, too, just might be called into this inside-out, upside-down, community of Christ.

No one is safe from God breaking in and disrupting everything you thought you knew about your life.

And that… well… that’s a little terrifying.

As a pastor, I sometimes shy away from this story about Saul’s dramatic conversion because it really is just too incredible.

He is a guy who literally makes a 180 degree turn in his life.

He goes from persecuting Christians to preaching the cross of Christ.

His old life dies on the Road to Damascus and three days later, he is born again as an apostle of Jesus.

There are very few of us who can compare our stories with his and William Muehl writes that this can give us a bit of a “faith inferiority complex.”[2]

Or, maybe even more than that, we fear something coming along to cause such a dramatic change in our lives.

Over these last sixteen months, we experienced what it is like to have life come to a stand-still and have everything that we knew to be “normal” upended.

It isn’t something we seek out unless we are desperate or at the end of our ropes.

Maybe that’s why we identify a bit more with Ananias in this story.

You know, the ordinary fellow, going about his day, who gets called to walk down the street and pass along a message to his mortal enemy.

What… that doesn’t happen to you on a regular basis?

I just have to keep telling myself that the main character in this story is not Saul.

And it’s not Ananias.

It is Jesus Christ.

For many chapters now, the disciples and apostles have been talking about Jesus.

But he shows up and calls these two individuals to action.

This is a word about how our Savior continues to show up in the lives of unexpected people to challenge us and push us beyond everything we thought we knew and understood.

Beyond our boundaries and borders and beliefs.

And sometimes, that happens in a heartbeat – like it did on that road to Damascus.

But sometimes, it happens over a lifetime.

Sometimes, truth comes to us in a dream or a sign or a message…

But sometimes it comes through a friend who has the courage to tell it like it is.

All around us, God is moving…

God is pushing us beyond our artificial divisions…

God is opening up our eyes…

God is calling us out of our privilege and bias…

Jesus stands before us, waiting for us to stop breathing threats and running from enemies and to start working together for a Kingdom that is far wider and more expansive than we could ever imagine.

May it be so.

[1] Jones. Stephen D. Feasting on the Word, Year C Volume 2, p 403.

[2] William Muehl, Why Preach? Why Listen? (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1986), 11.

Follow The Star: Authority

Posted on January 31, 2021Leave a comment

Text: Mark 1:21-28

Our gospel lesson for today begins with Jesus teaching in the synagogue.
And the people of Capernaum were astounded by his teaching.
It wasn’t simply what he taught, but how he taught it.
Jesus exuded authority: power, freedom, ability…
The words were not simply something he had read, but something he possessed.
They brought into being the reality they proclaimed.
As the Message translation describes it, “They were surprised at his teaching – so forthright, so confident – not quibbling and quoting like the religion scholars.”

I must admit, I almost start to take offense to that.
After all, I’m one of those religion scholars, those teachers, trying my best to make sense of the text and what I know and what I don’t know.
You are a scholar, too.
You are a theologian, taking the scriptures and your prayers and studies and doing the best you can to make sense of it all.
And we all quibble and quote.
We have our favorite texts and verses and we rely upon the teachers and leaders who have formed us.
We turn to people whom we believe have the authority to guide us… and we trust them to help us gain knowledge.
But it is also a world of social media and fake news that is so polarized it feels like we are living in alternate realities.
Something happens in the world and we interpret the events completely differently.
What is truth?

In college, I took a class on epistemology. Epistemology simply is the study of knowledge and it explores what is a justified belief and what is simply opinion.
C. I. Lewis claimed that knowledge, or truth, comes from our experiences, but those experiences are always interpreted through our definitions or concepts.
For example, two people might experience an hour very differently… for one it passes quickly and for another it drags on. But because they share the concept that an hour is sixty minutes and have devices that monitor that span of time, they can meet after an hour has passed.
We come to share concepts and definitions, “by the business of living together and the methods of naming, pointing, and learning by imitation,” Lewis writes.
And so, we come to understand together, collectively, that this is green…
The sky is blue… tomorrow is Monday…
An action is good…

But when I follow one teacher, and you follow another…
When my social media feed is filled with one perspective and yours looks completely different…
When I get my news from one source, and you another… are there any concepts or definitions or knowledge that we share?

We used to have something called the fairness doctrine in broadcasting. It was introduced by the FCC in 1949 and it required broadcasters to do two things: One, they had to present controversial issues so that the public could be informed. Two, they had to do so in a manner that was honest, equitable, and balanced.
In effect, it created shared concepts because we named and pointed to the same issues in the world and at least had the same language to talk about them, even if there were differences of experience.
However, the policy was ended in 1987 and it is just one example of the many ways we have stopped living together.

We are swimming in a world of relativity, separateness, and disconnection.
We no longer share the same concepts or definitions.
Racism…. Socialism… sexism… accountability…
What do those words mean? What is true and real and good?

Maybe we, like the people of Capernaum, are longing for a greater authority.
Some truth with a capital “T.”
Words that have power to not simply fill the air, but to name and change reality.

As we read last week, Jesus came into Galilee announcing, “Now is the time! Here is God’s kingdom! Repent, change your hearts and your minds, and trust this good news!”
The gospel is good news.
It is truth and knowledge and proclamation of reality.
He entered the village and, on the Sabbath, sat down in the synagogue and began teaching.
And God’s Kingdom began to become real for them.
It had power and life and being and it was present in their very midst.
And the people were compelled by this reality to repent, to change their hearts and minds.
After all, Jesus was calling them to relinquish the knowledge that could be quibbled over to embrace something that was really and actually true.

But what happens to the power of ignorance or division when the Kingdom takes hold?
What happens to the power that denies life and sows misinformation?
The power that diminishes the value of another person?
Mark names that power… that spirit… “unclean.” “Evil.”
And when confronted with the words and the teaching of Jesus, that spirit began to fight.
Right there in the synagogue it cried out, throwing the community into chaos, “What have you to do with us? Have you come to destroy us?”

We don’t know how long that evil spirit had held power over that person and that community.
We don’t know the kind of damage it inflicted.
What we do know is that Jesus acts.
Jesus rebukes the spirit, stops the harm and expels it from their midst.

God has given us “the freedom and power” as our United Methodist baptismal vows proclaim, “to resist evil, injustice, and oppression in whatever forms they present themselves.”
How can we fight back against forces that have separated and trapped us in cycles of misinformation and suspicion?
So what can we learn from Jesus about how to resist the power of division in our midst?

Jesus takes away its voice and drags it into the light of day where it dies.
Jesus rebukes it, shouting, “Silence! Come out!”

Now, today, in this moment, we see that silencing happening all around.
Cancel culture, after all, is rampant from people on all sides.
If we don’t like what someone has to say or what they believe, we simply unfollow them.
We ban them.
We scroll past.
We end friendships.

I want to start by saying that boundaries are important.
If you are being harmed by what another person is saying or doing, it is absolutely appropriate to separate yourself and to no longer allow their words to have power over you.
But so much of the kind of silencing we experience today simply reinforces our echo chambers. It drags us deeper into our separate spheres and we begin to see other human beings not as full and complex people but as a sound byte that can be dismissed.

And that is why I think we have to pair Jesus’s command to be silent with his call to come out.
To place our experiences and our knowledge in the light of day where we can hold it up to God’s intentions for our world.
Where we can truly compare our sources and our information with humility, an understanding that we might not have the full picture.
It is a call to re-engage.
To be present with one another.
To listen and seek to understand those we disagree with.
Jesus never asks us to set aside our experiences and perspectives, but to allow them to interact as we discern together where the authority of God our Creator and Redeemer is active and moving.
It is a call to share life with one another.

This week, our daily devotions will explore scriptures relating to God’s authority.
We’ll think about people who spoke God’s word into our midst and times when we had to set aside what we thought was true based on new information. We’ll think about what it means to humbly remember we are not the center of the universe.
But perhaps the most important scripture about authority we will read is the last one.
Paul tells us in his letter to the Corinthians that we can have all of the right words and all the right answers, but if we have no love for others, all of that knowledge and truth and experience is for nothing.
Love is the force that created us.
Love is the power that unites us.
Love is the reality that truly offers life.

There is an organization called Braver Angels that is working to try to bring people together in these incredibly divisive times. This week in its newsletter, they highlighted a relationship between a Quaker and a QAnon-believer in Maryland.
Their goal is not to change the other person, but to understand where they are coming from. The author notes:

“They don’t agree on much, though both believe in the importance of integrity in elections and media. But their definitions of integrity differ… [One of them] suggested they decide on a glossary, so that they actually speak the same language.”
These two people are taking the time to listen to one another and to build a common life.

That is the kind of Kingdom that Jesus calls into being.
It is an invitation for people who are radically different to build a common life.
Jesus calls sinners and saints.
Young and old.
Jews and Gentiles.
Blue-collar fisherman and white-collar government workers.
Men and women and people of various ethnic backgrounds.
Pharisees and Zealots.
And we come to learn that we need one another.
We are called to reorient our lives under an authority greater than any of our own experiences.
An authority that created the world and everything in it.
An authority that commands us to love.

So maybe in the coming days and weeks, wherever the forces of division or hatred rear their ugly head in this world, accept the freedom and power God gives you to resist.
Speak out loud if you have to: “I see you. I know what you are. And I refuse to let you separate me from others.”
Choose instead to cast it into the light of God’s love.
Love that puts others first.
Love that doesn’t hold grudges or delight in others mistakes.
Love that seeks the truth.

Untitled

Posted on October 7, 2018Leave a comment

Text: Mark 9:38-41

Sometimes the best thing a preacher can do is to be real and authentic.

And so I’m going to confess that I’m really struggling with how to share this text with you this week.

This fall, we are loosely following the lectionary – the three-year cycle of texts that help us to explore the fullness of the scripture. Rather than just preaching on my favorite texts each week, the lectionary challenges us to think outside of our comfort zone.

But we also are building up to our Stewardship Sunday at the end of this month, and as we organized the texts and the themes, we wanted to ask the question – Are you able to support the ministry of others? Are you able to invest in the work of your fellow siblings in Christ – even if you don’t always do things the same way? Are you able to encourage people you disagree with?

I still want to preach that sermon.

But I admit that it is harder to preach today than it was a month ago or a year ago.

And that is because what we see all around us, in both the church and our larger political landscape and indeed in our world, is a whole lot of us vs. them mentality.

I was sitting at an event in Chicago two weeks ago with other members of the General Conference delegation from our jurisdiction. And there is this particular person with whom I have a very difficult time finding any common ground. They weren’t even sitting at the table with me, but I could see them across the room and every single time they caught my attention, I could feel my anxiety rise. My heart beat faster. My chest clenched up a bit.

I realized that I see this person as my enemy.

We are on the same team.

We both love the United Methodist Church.

And yet everything we believe appears to be so diametrically opposed… and not only that, but I feel like their position actually harms people I love within the church.

I don’t want them to win.

And I don’t know what to do about that and how it is impacting my own soul.

Politics is the social life that we share together and we have witnessed our political discourse crumble to pieces.

In these past few weeks, anyone who has tried to say something about what is happening in our nation, particularly around the Supreme Court – for or against it – is immediately swarmed by people who both criticize their position and criticize them for not going far enough.

We are so entrenched that we cannot even see clearly.

The red side and the blue side are enemies and the slightest mention of anything political and you can watch a room fill with tension as people discern when to engage and how in order to be victorious.

But, friends, there simply have not been any winners in these political battles.

We have all lost.

As we have been following the gospel of Mark this fall, we come to a moment of struggle for the disciples. They have worked so closely with Jesus and even though they don’t always get it completely right, they understand who their tribe is.

To use a sports metaphor, Jesus is the coach and they can point to the other eleven players.

They know who their teammates are.

But as our pericope begins, the disciple John tells Jesus about how he and some other disciples noticed these other people who were doing ministry in his name. Specifically, they were casting out demons, something that the disciples themselves had just failed to do successfully a few verses earlier.

What was their very first response to encountering these people?

Resentment. Hostility.

They tried to stop them.

If they aren’t part of our team, our tribe, we have to shut them down.

Into our tribalism and partisanship, into our entrenchment and division, Christ speaks.

From the message translation:

“No one can use my name to do something good and powerful, and in the next breath cut me down. If he’s not an enemy, he’s an ally. Why, anyone by just giving you a cup of water in my name is on our side.”

Whoever is not against us is for us.

Those are really hard words to hear when you feel like you are on the battlefield.

They are hard words to hear when you consider someone your enemy.

They are especially hard words to hear when you look at the actions or the policies or the attitudes of someone and you actually believe that they will harm you or people you love or things you care about.

And maybe that is why I have struggled so much with this text this week.

Because there are bigger issues out there in the world than simply accepting or encouraging the ministry of someone who sets up communion a different way that I do.

I think our division is so intense because we believe there are issues of life and death, holiness and faithfulness, justice and covenant, on the line as a result of the direction we take… from either side.

But I wonder if what Jesus is really calling us to in this passage is a different way of engaging those battles.

What if instead of seeing those on the other side of the aisle or the other side of the church or in another part of this world as enemies, we saw them first as allies.

Jesus says that you demonstrate you are on his side by giving others a cup of water, giving the hungry food, clothing the naked, comforting the mourning.

Not by destroying those with whom you disagree.

If we continue just a bit farther in this chapter, Jesus talks about how if your hand or foot or eye causes you to stumble, cut it off. And then he reminds us that everyone will go through a refining fire sooner or later… and we need to consider how our actions demonstrate our faithfulness.

I think Jesus is calling us to get busy doing good, to worry about our own actions and our own failings, and to let God sort out the rest.

I got to thinking about my friend, Doug, as I thought about this work.

Doug was a Missouri Synod Lutheran pastor in the community that I first served in Marengo.

While we are both Christian, our two traditions have very different understandings of communion, ordination, and the place of women in the church.

The very first time I met Doug, I admit I had a lot of anxiety.

This was a person whose faith taught him that I couldn’t and shouldn’t be a pastor.

Everything in my being was preparing for an argument or to figure out a way to defend myself and my personhood. I had already drawn lines in the sand. I had already thought of him as a potential enemy.

Do you know what Doug wanted to talk about?

He wanted to ask if I would be willing to join him and some other pastors for breakfast every Wednesday morning to talk about the lectionary.

He didn’t see my as an opponent or someone he had to convince, but as an ally, a colleague, a friend.

He was offering me a cup of water…. Or coffee in this instance, in the name of Christ.

He was doing ministry in Jesus’ name.

And he recognized that I was doing the same.

We shared breakfast every Wednesday morning for four years.

And when we are invited to this table, we are called to set aside our weapons and our armor and to see people we believed to be enemies as brothers and sisters.

We will not agree.

We will not do things the same.

We might even believe that the actions of another person might harm our witness or people we love and care about.

But if we engage one another in love…

If we greet them in the name of Christ…

If we offer them a cup of water…

If we open ourselves to allow them to do the same for us…

Then at the very least we are preserving that place in our own souls that dies a little bit every time we consider someone to be our enemy.

Once we allow someone to sit with us at the table and break bread and share a meal, we discover that there are new ways to have a conversation about our differences.

We find there are good things that we can do together in Christ’s name.

And we have a chance to build the kind of trust and relationship that will allow us to truly hold one another accountable for our actions. We will finally have the authority and respect in one another’s life to call out actions that are done in the name of Christ that harms the body. And we can do so in love, with compassion, trusting and knowing that we are on the same team and that if our sister or brother is calling us to account it is because they want what is best for not only our own soul, but for the church and the world that we share.

So are you able to invite someone you disagree with to the table?

Are you able to point out the good things they do in Christ’s name?

Are you able to encourage them and love them so that one day you can both hold one another accountable?

May it be so.

Sermon on the Mount: The Golden Rule

Posted on February 19, 2017Leave a comment

My sister-in-law has been staying with us all week while she completed a training here in Des Moines for her work place. It was really nice to come home in the evenings and to be with not only my husband, but both of his siblings every evening. We relaxed, had nice meals together, caught up on what was going on in each other’s lives and played a lot of cards.

One of our go-to games is pinochle. You play the game with a deck made up of only 9’s through Aces, but we play with four of every single card. There is a bid phase, a meld phase, and then a playing phase. It’s kind of a complicated game, but once you get the hang of it, it goes fairly quickly.

Like any card game, there are endless variations on the rules. And the thing about pinochle is that whenever we play at my sister-in-law’s house, we play with a different set of rules than when we play at their dad’s house. In one case, a four of a kind can earn you anywhere from 40-100 points, and in the other, it’s worth absolutely nothing. When I looked down at my hand about halfway through the game and saw four Kings of Hearts, I suddenly wished that we were playing at her house instead.

But, the house rules prevail.

A couple of weeks ago as we gathered here to explore the Sermon on the Mount, we talked about the laws of the Hebrew Scriptures, as explained by Jesus. He took some of those well-known laws from the Ten Commandments and actually made them harder… in the end, reminding us that our aim is to be perfect, to be complete in our love. Jesus puts his own spin or variation on them.

Now, the difference between a rule and a law is hard to distinguish. Laws are official, because they are created and enforced by the political structure of the time – whether it is a democracy, like the United States today, or a theocracy, like the early Jewish monarchy and they have official consequences. But rules, are standards of behavior that guide our actions and tend to be dictated by the community or environment or home that you are in. There are consequences for rules, too, but they tend to be less severe – like a loss of privilege or opportunity.

In the case of a card game, you could think about the law being the standard way a game is played. In the game we were play, for example, a Queen of Spades and a Jack of Diamonds is a what is known as a pinochle and that is same everywhere you play the game. But the variations, the house rules, vary and tell you a little bit about what that particular community values about the game itself.

Much of the Sermon on the Mount is made up of these “house rules.” Jesus describes for us how it is that we play this game of life as people who are part of the Kingdom of God. He lays out the variations that are going to guide our life and our relationships if we want to be part of this community. These aren’t formal laws with defined consequences, but rather describe the standards that we should aspire to embody if we are going to be part of God’s Kingdom.

And the section of the sermon that we focus on this morning is no different. When it comes to relationships, when it comes to how we live together in community, Jesus lifts up this idea of reciprocal relationship… that you should give what you want to get.

He talks about this in terms of judgment: Don’t judge so you won’t be judged.

He talks about it in terms of seeking: That just as you expect to get the things you need from your earthly parent, so your heavenly parent will give you good things.

And he talks about this in how we treat one another in general: Do unto others what you would have them do unto you.

Now, Christianity isn’t the only community to have ever expressed this rule.

In the Hindu faith we hear: This is the sum of duty: do naught to others which if done to thee would cause thee pain. (The Mahabharata)

In Buddhism: Hurt not others with that which pains yourself. (Udana-Varga)

Islam teaches: No one of you is a believer until he desires for his brother that which he desires for himself. (Hadith)

Confucius says: What you do not want others to do to you, do not do to others.

And as a contemporary of Jesus, Seneca taught: Treat your inferiors as you would be treated by your betters.

What is interesting is that in many of these other cultural and religious expressions of this idea, the rule is usually expressed in the negative. Don’t treat others how you wouldn’t want to be treated. It is about refraining and restraint. And the section on judgment certainly fits that kind of characteristic when it encourages us to not point out the specks in our neighbors eye – to refrain from judging. But Jesus also expresses this rule in the positive light – Treat others the way you want to be treated. As MacDonald and Farstad write in their commentary on this passage, Jesus “goes beyond passive restraint to active benevolence. Christianity is not simply a matter of abstinence from sin; it is positive goodness.” (Believer’s Bible Commentary: Old and New Testaments).

The Golden Rules that Jesus give us are proactive. They invite us to take a situation and to pour God’s mercy, love, and grace into every aspect. We should look upon every encounter with others and ask in every circumstance – how would I want to be treated in the midst of this. And then, we are supposed to do it. Not just think about it, but do it! William Barclay notes that this law invites us to go out of our way to help others, and it is something that “only love can compel us to do. The attitude which says, ‘I must do no harm to people,’ is quite different from the attitude which says, ‘I must do my best to help people.’” (The Gospel of Matthew: Volume 1)

And Jesus calls us to do our best to love all people, whether or not they deserve it.

Think about even the “law of retaliation” that comes earlier in chapter 5 of Matthew’s gospel. Jesus reminds us that the reciprocal nature of our relationships in the past has been about an eye for an eye. We give back what we have been given. But Jesus challenges us to be proactive in our love… that if we are slapped on one cheek, to turn the other to them as well. If we are sued for our shirt, we should give them our coat also. In many ways, we are being asked to love first and ask questions later!

The world that we live in today is starkly divided. There is a lot of pain and disagreement and conflict that is not only reflected in national politics, but it often takes its root in our homes and families and churches, too. When I was in Chicago a few weeks ago, one of my colleagues shared that their family has cancelled their annual reunion because they have such differing political views they can’t be in the same room together any longer. Our larger United Methodist Church is so divided about whether and how we will welcome people of varying sexual orientations that we are in a season of deep discernment about if we can even remain a united church and what it might look like if we did. I experience this in my own family, too.

And maybe that is why a commentary piece from foxnews.com really hit home with me. The author describes how she and her husband find a way to live together in the midst of their disagreements and I’ll share the article to our church facebook page if you are interested in reading it. What struck me about the piece, and why I share it today, is that it lifts up that you have to start with love. You have to start with the Golden Rule. You have to start in a place of generosity and mercy and kindness, treating those who radically disagree with you with the same respect and graciousness that you would hope to receive back.

Jennifer Dukes Lee calls us to resist trying to be right and to not judge others by putting them in boxes. She calls us to think before we speak and to ask if what we say is True, Helpful, Inspiring, Necessary, and Kind. And she tells us that when we truly live in these ways, when we let love define what we do, that we can show the world that it is possible to live in the midst of diversity, if we put others first. (http://www.foxnews.com/opinion/2017/02/16/trump-or-never-trump-what-to-do-when-cant-agree-with-people-love.html)

In this season of our national and state and home life, we need to remember the house rules that define who we are as people of faith. The rule of love and compassion. The rule that invites us to put others first. The rule that leads us to treat any person we meet the way we would want to be treated… whether they deserve it or not.

Empty. #umcgc

Posted on May 18, 2016Leave a comment

So far at this conference I’ve been given a few nicknames.

Mama-Pastor.
Interloper.
Bridge-builder.

I feel called to be United Methodist and I have always felt called to hang out in the middle and help various sides hear one another.

Maybe that is why my subcommittee experience was so powerful.

We connected across cultures.
We shared from our contexts.
We listened more than we talked.

And maybe that is why today has been so terribly hard.

Yesterday evening, word started spreading about conversations between the Council of Bishops and various caucuses. They are trying to help us find a way forward and viable separation was on the table. As Bishop Ough said this morning (and this is a paraphrase): we risked being vulnerable enough to go there.

Last night was full of denial and shock.

We began worship with the room buzzing and a whole host of ecumenical guests.

Unity. Oneness. Unity. Oneness.

Oh, and an absolutely incredible and challenging sermon by Ivan Abrahams of the World Methodist Council.

I wept through most of worship.

My heart was broken.

The bridges seemed to be disintegrating.

And yet we were singing “I need you to survive.”

Bishop Ough came to the mic after worship and shared with us a letter from the Bishops. A word that they were committed to unity. And yet, it felt to me like they were also saying… whatever you decide to do, we’ll help you navigate through.

Except, we don’t know what to do.

Friends, our conflict is not about the lives of LGBTQI people. At this moment, their value, calls, and relationships are at the center of our conflict, but the church needs to grow up and say to our children: it is not your fault that we are so divided and torn.

My siblings are not issues and they are not the cause of our pain… although we are causing them pain.

Our conflict is that we have radically different ways of understanding what it means to be United Methodist. Across the connection, we view the primacy of scripture differently. Some of us see the Discipline as gospel and some of us see it as a living breathing document that helps us adapt to changing context. Some of our conferences are lay led, others clergy, other focus their power in the episcopacy. Some of us are in cultures that have forgotten the Christian tradition, others in places where the way of Jesus is barely taking root and trying to create space for Christianity. Some of are studying liberation theology and some of us can’t see our privilege when we look at ourselves in the mirror. Some of us have the freedom to make choices and others face scrutiny from their governments. Some of us are worried about kids spending too much time and energy on soccer camp and others are just praying for their five year old not to die from malaria.

We’ve found a way together before.

What I love about our tradition is that we hold together all sorts of both/ands… personal piety AND social holiness… making disciples AND transforming the world… potlucks AND fasting…

So I came to General Conference committed to finding a way forward… together.

I have to admit, however, that I need the church to change. Yes, to be more inclusive. Yes, to end the pain upon our LGBTQI siblings. But even more, I need the church to change because the Holy Spirit is calling and pushing and challenging us to step to the margins and let go of our rules and power and privilege and actually go do the things Jesus freaking asked us to do!

If the church refuses to change and adapt… well… I have started to feel like maybe we can each be more faithful on our own.

Watching us celebrate the 200th anniversary of the AME Church, we lifted up how they thrived a part from us. We pushed out our siblings (in horrendous acts of racism) and they are fine. God continues to move and work in both of our traditions. God is bigger than our denominations and conflicts. God can unite us even if we have different names for our churches.

So, friends, tomorrow we start the conversation again.

The Bishops might come back with a proposal. We might discuss it.

Only God knows what our future holds.

And tomorrow, having heard the pain and frustration, I don’t know where we’ll end up.

All I know is that I’m letting go of any desire to stay together at all cost, any stubborn clinging to unity in name only.

There is a way forward but I no longer pretend to have a “right answer.”

Lord, put us to what thou wilt… let us be employed for thee or laid aside for thee… let us have all things, let us have nothing… thy will be done.