Weaving a new thread…

Every three years, I have to go to sexual misconduct/boundaries training.

It is required for all clergy in my conference of the United Methodist Church. We hold a lot of power in our role over the lives of parishioners and breaking that sacred trust by misusing that power to exploit someone else is absolutely unacceptable.

We are in fact held to a higher standard because of the weight of the responsibility we hold in the lives of the people we serve.

Facing the reality of our history of this kind of abuse is important.

Acknowledging the acts of our colleagues who continue to perpetuate this kind of abuse has not been easy. In fact, it feels like it is often swept under the rug, rather than actually confronted and named so that congregations and people might find healing.

Is sitting through the training comfortable? No. In fact, as a woman, sometimes hearing the comments of my colleagues is incredibly uncomfortable and I wonder why I’m there and why they aren’t paying more attention.

Often it doesn’t feel like to goes far enough to really be able to create change… because honestly, it keeps happening. And the training itself can be incredibly heteronormative – typically using examples of a male pastor and a female congregation member…. well, what do you do it it is a same gender situation?

Sometimes, as a woman, I wish the training addressed how sexism and misconduct and boundary violations can go the other way and how we might protect ourselves from them. Anecdotally, women in ministry experience that far more often than our male colleagues do and so there might be different things we need out of such a training. Or, maybe we should acknowledge that a training addressing the particular experiences of women might also benefit the men in the room. Oh… let’s also not forget transgender colleagues…

It isn’t perfect… but this kind of training is important.

It is essential.

And calling out the misbehavior of clergy does not make me anti-clergy.

Critiquing the training doesn’t mean I’m anti-training.

Learning and acknowledging the sexist history of my tradition does not make me anti-church.

All are about a love of the work and the institution and the desire to in fact make it better.

I have thought about how this same view about sexism and abuse and clergy could be substituted with and applied to our national conversation on racism and excessive force and police. Acknowledging the patterns and the history and misbehavior of particular officers doesn’t make me anti-police… Lifting up the need for training doesn’t mean I think everything these officers are doing is wrong… Maybe like the critiques I would make of our boundary training, there are things that these law enforcement officers are experiencing that could be better addressed if the training were modified… Just like in my own experience and tradition, I look at this with a critical eye because I care for the people who have been called to the work and because I care for the communities they serve. I just want it all to be better.

Our conference made a commitment this summer at our annual conference to work towards becoming an anti-racist conference.

We should probably make a commitment to actually be an anti-sexist and anti-homophobic conference right along with it. Because we aren’t there yet, either.

I see it as acknowledging the places we have failed and where we have room to do oh so much better.

It’s what church is all about, after all, right?

Being able to see your sin, repent of it, and step into transformation.

We can’t always see it ourselves.

Sometimes we need to be challenged and made uncomfortable to see these truths.

Like when Nathan confronted David.

But the idea is littered all over the words of the prophets as they call out the faults of the nations and the leaders and the people… and challenge them to repent and to do better.

Some of these realities were ones that were going on for generations!

The conversation we are having all across our country on racism exists because we haven’t truly learned our history yet.

We have erased it and swept it aside and ignored it… much like we have given male pastors a slap on the wrist for sexual misconduct and then appointed them to a church with a bigger salary.

I was astonished this summer when I learned parts of our national history in our exploration of the National Parks during worship.

There are countless examples of the beliefs and experiences of people who were indigenous to this land or enslaved by our ancestors that we have either forgotten or never been taught.

And perhaps the one that really shocked me the most was to learn more about the Dred Scott case in exploring the Gateway Arch and the Old St. Louis Courthouse. The majority opinion of the Supreme Court wrote that our Constitution demonstrated a “perpetual and impassible barrier was intended to be erected between the white race and the one which they had reduced to slavery.”

We’ve been working on some of this reckoning in the United Methodist Church as well, especially on our history with Native Americans.

We are lamenting and confessing and repenting around the role we played in the Sand Creek Massacre… even as we are celebrating the work of people like John Stewart among the Wynodotte people (https://um-insight.net/in-the-church/umc-global-nature/plan-now-wyandotte-land-return-global-ministries-founding-20/)

Wounds that are not exposed to the air and to the light can fester and become infected.

Light brings healing.

I’m deeply troubled by the actions of our national administration to ban diversity and anti-racism and anti-sexism training not only in the federal government, but now also among any contractors. (https://www.whitehouse.gov/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/M-20-34.pdf and https://www.whitehouse.gov/presidential-actions/executive-order-combating-race-sex-stereotyping/)

We should feel discomfort at our history.

Because that discomfort is what urges us onward to do better.

We should also see and acknowledge and celebrate the diversity that is all around us.

When Dr. King spoke of how he didn’t want his children to be judged by the color of their skin, but by the content of their character, he didn’t mean that he thought our awareness of the beautiful tapestry of our varied pigmentation or culture or differences should be erased.

He was actually critiquing that the threads woven in the Constitution, continued in the Dred Scott decision were not rectified fully by the Emancipation Proclamation. One hundred years later, they were still being felt. The “Negro is still sadly crippled by the manacles of segregation and the chains of discrimination.”

He dreamt of a day we could sit together in our differences and all be free.

Our history is complicated…

Our people are, too…

But it is our story. Our history.

And it’s legacy has stretched through and laid the foundations for where we stand today. It is woven into the fabric of who we are and how we got to this place.

Acknowledging that allows us to weave a different thread for future generations.

The Wilderness: God Provides

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Text:  Deuteronomy 29:2-6, Mark 1:12-14

A few years ago, I was asked to plan worship for our semi-annual clergy gathering. My team had everything arranged and ready to go. I just had to make sure to arrive early enough in the morning that I could meet with the technical engineer to set up the microphones and other electronics we would need that morning.
At this point in my life, I was not a morning person. And in order to get halfway across the state, I had to be out the door of my house by 5:30 am.
The alarm went off at 5:00.
I turned it off and promptly pulled the covers back over my head.
Every fiber of my being wanted to go back to sleep. So I did.
Notice, I didn’t hit the snooze button. I turned the alarm off, and fell back to sleep.
Ten minutes later, something woke me up.
Whether it was the rustle and squacks of the birds in the tree, or a cat pouncing on my legs in the bed or just some kind of internal switch – I woke up.
And I remember very distinctly taking a deep breath and saying – thank God.
I didn’t mean it in an offhand, irreligious kind of way.
I was grateful to God that I had woken up.
I was grateful to God that although my body was not ready or willing, God was making sure I was going to be able to answer the call I had received.
I was grateful to God, because God provided.

How many of you have heard of the word “providence”?
What exactly does “providence” mean?
The word originally comes from the Latin providentia – and has to do with foresight, prudence, the ability to see ahead. So when we talk about God’s providence – we think of God’s ability to provide for, to direct, to shape the future.
Martin Luther understood providence to be both the direct and indirect work of God in the world. Not only does God provide the good things we need for human life – but God also works through family, government, jobs, and other people. “We receive these blessings not from them, but, through them, from God.”
John Wesley in his sermon “On Divine Providence,” speaks of the care that God has for all of creation and claims, “Nothing is so small or insignificant in the sight of men as not to be an object of the care and providence of God, before whom nothing is small that concerns the happiness of any of his creatures.”
It is intimately related to his idea of prevenient grace, in that God has already laid the foundation for all people to come into a saving relationship with God.
And so, providence is the way that God cares for the universe – upholds the universe – and also the special ways that God extraordinarily intervenes in the lives of God’s people.

Throughout this journey through the wilderness, God’s providence has been all around.
We have remembered together that our ancestors were a stubborn and rebellious people.
They witnessed miracles!
They were released from bondage in Egypt…
they passed through the Red Sea…
they were led through the desert by cloud and light…
they were fed by manna and quail…
they drank pure clear water from rocks in the midst of the wilderness…
and yet they doubted and tried to go their own way.
Yet they did not, could not, would not believe that God would continue to provide.
God did.
The words shared with us in the book of Deuteronomy come from the end of a forty year journey through the wilderness.
For forty years… longer than I have been alive… God led them. God fed them. God provided.
As Moses reminds the people on the edge of these promised land:
You couldn’t make bread or ferment wine because you were not in a place where you could raise grain or grapes… you had to rely upon God and God provided.
The clothes and sandals that you are wearing come from the same fabric and resources you had when you fled from Egypt… and they have protected you from the elements for all of these years.

I meant to bring it today because this piece of clothing is a sermon in and of itself, but my husband still has a t-shirt from elementary school that he wears.
We think the shirt is just over twenty-five years old, but since it hasn’t fallen apart completely, he refuses to add it to the rag pile.
When he worked in the Amana factory, he cut the sleeves off making it sleeveless.
The fabric itself is so worn that it is nearly see-through.
Now, it has become a staple of our summer adventures on the boat and we joke that the shirt has a Sun Protection Factor of 15.

When I think about the wear and tear on that one item of clothing that is worn only a dozen or so times a year, I am astonished by the way God provided for the Israelites all throughout that journey in the wilderness.
There were not laundromats or department stories in the Sinai.
No places to trade or barter for the raw materials.
Just the cloth and creatures they had when they fled from Egypt.
What little they had sustained them for forty years.
God clothes the lilies of the field (Matthew 6:25-34) and God clothed the Israelites in the wilderness.
Why do we doubt God will provide for us?

For most of our season of Lent, we have explored how Jesus’ forty days in the wilderness echoes the journey of the Israelites. Faced with some of the same trials and temptations, he shows us how to trust in God and not seek our own way.
Mark’s account of this time is very different however.
The entirety of his journey is summed up in one single verse:
“He was in the wilderness forty days, tempted by Satan; and he was with the wild beasts; and the angels waited on him.” (1:13)
Matthew, too, pulls out that final detail in his account, tell us that when the devil left, angels came and took care of him.
God shows up again in the wilderness.
And God provides.
God cares for and tends to every need of Jesus during this liminal time.
Food, water, protection from those wild creatures, companionship.
God provides.

And as our Palm Sunday account reminds us, God is providing at the end of Jesus’ journey to Jerusalem as well.
Before they even get to the city, the colt is ready.
It is tied up just where Jesus tells the disciples it would be.
And the strange and wonderful part of this account is that when they tell the owner that it is the Master who needs it, there are no more questions!

As they enter the city, the disciples break into song, shouting “Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord!”
And when the Pharisees grumble and complain, begging Jesus to tell them to be quiet lest they make a scene and disturb the Romans, Jesus tells them that this awareness of God’s blessing and providence in their midst is so powerful, so noticeable, that if the disciples closed their mouths the very rocks of the earth would start to shout!

And we cannot forget that this entrance into Jerusalem is the beginning of another act of providence in our lives.
For the rest of the journey this week takes us through the gates, to the upper room, the garden, the trial and ultimately to the cross.
In the very life and death of Jesus, God has provided a way for us to be reconciled… to our sin, to one another, to creation, and to ultimately, to God.

Over and over again in the Psalms, we are asked to tell the coming generations about the glorious deeds of God.
We want them to set their hope in God and to know that God will provide for their future.
But I think this act of proclamation is also for us.
When we remember how God has already provided, we find confidence for our future.

Our denomination, the United Methodist Church is wandering through the wilderness right now and we aren’t sure where the end of our journey will be.
But this past week, I gathered with others in Atlanta to celebrate that we have been in mission together for 200 years.
200 years ago, a free black man named John Stewart was a drunk and penniless and falling apart. But one night on the way home, he heard singing and he stumbled into a Methodist revival happening in the woods. His life was forever changed.
And then he heard God call him to head northwest and share to share the good news.
He found himself among the Wyandotte Nation and our first Missionary Society was formed on April 5, 1819 in order to support Stewart and those who would come in this work.
For 200 years, people have set out to share the love of God with complete strangers, and God provided.
They made mistakes along the way, but God provided mercy and forgiveness and we have learned from their journeys.
They encountered opposition, racism, sexism, the death of loved ones, hunger… but they kept going because God provided them strength.

As I heard their stories this past week, it was a reminder that even in times of uncertainty and change, hardship and conflict, God is in our midst.
Even in the wilderness…. Maybe especially in the wilderness… God is providing us with the things that we need to keep going.
When we remember all of the ways that God has worked in the past, we find the ability to have faith and to trust that God will continue to be there providing for our future.
Thanks be to God. Amen.

A Way Forward? Fixed And Free

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The United Methodist Church is at a crossroads.

On the one hand, we do incredible work together because of our connection across the globe.  Missionaries go from everywhere to everywhere.  We are present amid disaster and crisis providing relief.  New faith communities have been formed in West Des Moines, Camaroon, and Russia. And these things happen because we pool our resources to do the most good.

On the other hand, we are a diverse, expansive, global denomination working in many different contexts from many different backgrounds.  Within that diversity is blessing and also conflict – including conflict about the role of LGBTQ+ persons in the life of the church – particularly whether they can be married in the church or ordained/consecrated by the church.

Next week, we’ll turn our attention to scripture and dive deeper into how they relate to what it means to be Lesbian, Gay, or Queer today.

But for today, we wanted to start with the big picture of how we got to this place as a denomination.   Behind any particular verse is the tension between flexibility and permanence.

What is written in stone?

What is subject to change in time and context?

How do we know the difference?

In February, our denomination will hold a special session of General Conference and how we answer these questions will determine our identity for the future.

 

How did we get here?

As people of faith, we are heirs of both the tabernacle and the temple.

That is the premise that the pastors of Lovers Lane United Methodist Church shared with their congregation when they addressed our current dilemma at the beginning of this year.  (https://soundcloud.com/llumc/sets/fixed-and-free)

As we heard in our scriptures for the day (Exodus 25:1-9 and 1 Kings 6:11-13), as the context and the people of the Bible changed, God had different ways that the people could come to know and worship God.

 

In the midst of the wilderness, the people had no home.  They were always on the move, never setting down roots, everything was always changing and uncertain.

And so God sends them instructions to build a tent – a tabernacle – a movable place of worship that would go with them wherever they were.

Every person within the community was called upon to contribute something – richly colored yarns, gold, silver, wood, leather, precious stones – all of them used to create a moveable place for God to dwell among them on the journey.  Wherever they traveled – God was with them.   (Exodus 25:1-9)

 

Generations later, the people stopped moving.  They had established themselves in the land and they wanted permanence.  They wanted a king like the nations around them. And they wanted to build God a temple.

King David himself looked around at the palace he was living in while the Ark of the Covenant was still residing within the tabernacle.  But it wasn’t until his son, Solomon, was established on the throne, that the temple in Jerusalem was constructed.

This temple, this permanent dwelling place for God, was important for the people in the time of the Kingdoms.  No longer did the people all travel together with God in their midst.  Now they were settled in far off places.  The temple represented something stable and unchanging, the home base to which they could return.  God now dwelt somewhere a part from the vast majority of the people – but if you followed the rules and went to the temple, you could be with God.  (1 Kings 6:11-13)

 

That tension between what is fixed and free, an institution and a movement, is at the core of our struggle and our identity.

Are we focused on the God of the tabernacle – who hears the cries of the oppressed and marginalized and who makes a home among the people wherever they might be?

Or are we focused on the God of the temple – who has made a covenant and established laws and who calls us to repent and return home so we might experience life abundant?

It is both… a tension we must hold… but sometimes it becomes a tug of war that threatens to tear apart the church.

Even when we focus on the Word – both the one who walked among us and the living word we discover in this text – we see this tension.

As the gospel of John reminds us, “In the beginning was the Word…  the Word became flesh and made his home among us.”  (John 1: 1, 14) The roots of this passage are that the Word tabernacled among us.

But Jesus also said that upon the rock of Peter, he would build his church.  Solid, foundational, able to withstand time and changing winds. (Matthew 16:18)

Too often, what we find reflected within the words of scripture are our own predispositions towards temple or tabernacle.

And, we must be aware that there is also a shadow side to either of these inclinations.  If we lean too heavily upon viewing God through the lens of the tabernacle, we might be tempted to believe that wherever we are, whatever we believe, must be okay because God is right there with us.    On the other hand, if we lean too heavily upon viewing God through the lens of the temple, we might be tempted to believe that faith means being rigid, legalistic, unmoveable.   The tabernacle needs to be balanced with accountability.  The temple needs to be balanced with grace.

 

There is an awful lot of history between the time of Christ and our denominational roots in the 18th century.  The church spread and conquered and fractured and reformed.  The bible itself was put in the hands of everyday people.  The Holy Spirit moved, and institutions grew.

One of our beginning points lies with John Wesley, a priest in the Church of England.  The institutional church around him was very removed from the people of the day.  And so, he felt a call to leave the cathedral and John Wesley went out into the fields, where the people were.

He preached in homes, and from the top of tombstones in the graveyard, and his brother, Charles, took old drinking songs and turned them into hymns.  They gathered people into small groups for accountability and care and formation, but always encouraged them to remain connected to the established church.

Now, something that is important here is that Wesley never wanted to start a new church – he simply wanted to reform his church and help the people reconnect and experience the power of God in their lives.  From England to Scotland to the American colonies – wherever the church was, small groups of Methodists were growing.

 

If you ever have trouble placing our history as a church, remember this – the Methodist movement grew up alongside the American Revolution.  And when England lost and the Church of England left the colonies – all of those in the Methodist movement were left without churches and leadership.  And so reluctantly, John Wesley ordained Thomas Coke and Francis Asbury as superintendents or bishops and sent them to lead the people called Methodist in the new country.

And because we were established around the same time as this nation, our governance matches the governance of the United States.   Our church is a democratic based structure with three branches – a Judicial Branch, an Executive Branch, and a Legislative Branch.

 

When the people wandered in the wilderness, God dwelt among them in a tent that was free to move.

When the people were established in a kingdom, God dwelt among them from an established temple in the capitol.

And when the people were forming a new nation, our church came to look like the new democracy with a book of laws and rules at the center of who we are.

 

I know we’d like to think that book is the bible, and… well, it is… but there is another book that holds us together as a denomination: The Book of Discipline.

In many ways, this has been our attempt to hold the tension between the fixed and the free, the movement and the institution.

This book provides stability in the sense that it is our reference point and foundational document of our identity.  It contains the Articles of Religion that have been handed down through generations and a constitution describing who we are and how we function, and which is very difficult to change.

But it also provides flexibility in the sense that everything else within this book can be changed every four years by a simple majority of delegates to the General Conference.

 

Like the United States Government, we have a judicial branch – a Judicial Council of 9 persons who are elected to rule on matters of disagreement.  We also have an executive branch, our Bishops, who are tasked with upholding the Discipline and caring for the ministry of the church.

Lastly, the General Conference is our legislative body. It is our version of Congress, only our gathering time is much shorter – for a couple of weeks every four years.  It is where we gather to discern God’s will for the future of our church in the world.  It is the place from which we boldly proclaim where God is and sometimes we have gotten it wrong and sometimes we have gotten it right.

 

37814071_10155608720195866_3274315691594874880_nIf you look at the history of our church, it has not been one continuous solid history.

If you trace the line from the Church of England, the lighter brown set of roots, (and the side of our history that I know better), we can see that our lack of welcome and inclusion for African American siblings led to the formation of not one, but three new denominations.

Conflict over slavery and the authority of the bishops split the Methodist Episcopal Church in 1844 – years before the Civil War.

Sometimes splits were the result of contextual differences.  Sometimes because there was greater freedom needed that the more established church couldn’t hold within itself.

But the church has also merged and reconnected and joined with others for missional reasons.  In 1939, previous splintering was repaired as we became the Methodist Church.

And in 1968, we merged and formed a union with the Evangelical United Brethren Church.

One of our own – Rev. Harold Varce was a pastor in the EUB at that time and he was there at the founding of the United Methodist Church.  In fact, thanks to Harold, that “United” from the EUB tradition made its way into our name.

 

What would be the witness of this new denomination?

How would we hold in tension the call to find God at the margins with the oppressed and to boldly proclaim the established truth of God?

One of the first things that we undertook was to write our Social Principles.  While not church law, they are “the prayerful and thoughtful effort on part of the General Conference to speak to the human issues in the contemporary world from a sound biblical and theological foundation as historically demonstrated in United Methodist traditions.” (Preface)

And so in 1972 – with the denomination only four years old, much of the attention was focused on our section regarding human sexuality.  It was a time of great experimentation and misconduct in society at large and this was our first opportunity as a church to speak.

In the midst of our larger statement was a phrase “persons of homosexual orientation are persons of sacred worth.”  An amendment was made and approved which said, “We do not condone the practice of homosexuality and consider it incompatible with Christian teaching.”

In many ways – right there in the midst of that statement which says two very different things – is that tension between tabernacle and temple.  God’s presence dwells in the life of LGBTQ+ persons – they are of sacred worth… and the practice of their orientation is sinful to God and requires repentance.

Since 1972 – we have experienced a back and forth, push and pull, tug of war over whether we will fully embrace and include gays and lesbians in the life of the church or if we will stand firmly against the tides of culture upon the traditions of our established church.

That tension has reached such a point in the life of our denomination that it has overtaken much of our witness and work.

And so we reached a point in 2016 where we could not move forward without discerning a new way forward.  Over these past two years folks have gathered to pray, discern, converse, pour over scriptures, wrestle, and finally we are at a point where their recommendations of various possibilities will come to a special General Conference, focused solely on this topic in February.

Over the next couple of weeks we’ll back up and look at the scriptures behind our conversation.  We’ll look at the landscape of our current dilemma.  And in the final week, we’ll explore together the implications of the various proposals.

 

Here is what I want us to remember today.

When we were in the wilderness AND when established as a powerful nation – God dwelt among us.

When the temple was in ruins AND when the church was being persecuted – God was with us.

God has been leading, calling, pushing, prodding, rebuilding, connecting, pruning, and forming God’s people from the very beginning.

Not once has God left our side… although sometimes we have turned our backs upon God.

 

In some ways, I think God gives us what we need as far as a structure for whatever moment we might find ourselves in history.  Anything that will help us grasp onto the very simple fact that God love us and calls us to be God’s people.

Through the ups and downs of churches that have split and reconnected and reimagined their existence, what is constant is the Lord and Savior of us all.

So whatever comes, whatever changes, whatever new possibilities lie before us, I pray that we would trust that God is present in the midst of it all.

Amen.