General Conference via Twitter

Watching the live streaming of General Conference and the attendant Twitter feed has become strangely addictive. It’s almost like being there, including feeling the frustration of watching people try to make “amendments-to-amendments” that are, in reality, simply the initial motion unamended. It is apparent that never before has there been this type of widespread instant sharing of thoughts and opinions by so many.

Here is what I am learning:

- The presence and power of young people (#gcyp) is magnified through Twitter in a way that will change the denomination.

- Anyone who considers themselves a “power broker” and yet isn’t tweeting isn’t a power broker for much longer.

- Tweeting is great for short pithy statements, or analogies to movies. (I’m loving the Hunger Games references!) It’s a wonderful way to show support for a person or a position. It is an entertaining way to follow the live action and giggle at some of the inanities that occur.

- However, it is a rare tweet that can offer a nuanced theological perspective in 140 characters or less. When those attempts fail, Twitter too often becomes a shouting match that adds nothing to the conversation.

- Finally, it appears that the #gc2012 hashtag is being used simultaneously by another organization. Each group must be having lots of “huh?” moments as random tweets show up.

 I am impressed at the power of connection that the Twitterverse is bringing to our General Conference. It’s one more tool that we are better for- when we use it well.

Anonymous but Known

Yesterday’s hospital visit was as joyous as the birth of a new baby. Someone has received a long-awaited kidney transplant! What a great joy, as the 28 months on the waiting list have culminated in successful surgery and the promise of renewed life.

And yet we were all aware that the joy in that hospital room is countered by sorrow in another hospital room. All we know about the donor is the approximate age and the cause of death; a heart attack in someone too young. We don’t know the gender, race, occupation, or anything else about the person whose kidney is giving new life in my friend.

In spite of the lack of factual information, I realize that I do know a lot about the donor. I know that he or she cared enough about other people to sign the organ donor side of their license plate. Perhaps she or he had not actually signed, but had lived life in such a way that the family members were able to say with confidence, “Yes, that’s what they would have wanted.” This was a person who lived life openly and honestly, so that the family would be able to make such a self-giving decision. This person knew that the body is just temporary housing, and that, when we’re done with it, it might help others. Even though their heart failed them, it was big enough to share other organs with many different people around the region. Their grieving family found, I pray, a glimmer of hope in knowing that their loved one was giving life to others.

If you haven’t signed the back of your driver’s license yet, do so. Make sure your family knows what you want. I saw a miracle yesterday in a hospital room, I really did.

Pedometer Thoughts

On the assumption that we pay attention to those things which we measure, our clergy health plan gives us cash rewards for wearing a pedometer. Although I objected initially (they know everything about my health care, now they want to know how far I walk?), I discovered something about myself. I can be bought. Each year, I receive several hundred dollars for wearing that thing, and so I wear it. This year, rather than take the cash option, I have chosen to take gift cards, so that I can point specifically to something that I gain as result of walking. I am enjoying the irony of using my health-plan-issued AMC gift card to sit in the dark for a few hours, snarfing down extra-buttery popcorn.

In spite of my hesitation, I have discovered that I truly do pay more attention and walk more. Over the years, I have a few observations:
1) I am so glad that they changed the logo and design on our pedometers. It was disconcerting to be at a clergy meeting and see all of these people with “VIRGIN” emblazoned on their waistbands.
2) My pedometer registers the fewest steps on the days that I travel across the state or across the country.
3) The best and easiest steps come from walking on the beach.
4) We should get double, triple, or even quadruple credit for steps taken to the pulpit, in the rain, or in a hospital corridor.

Handbaskets and Hope

Sometimes people look at the world and the young people of today, and they get all crabby and think things are well on their way to hell in a handbasket. But I see a beautiful, newly engaged young couple, with their eyes full of love and hope and great aspirations. I see 28 youth and their parents spending weeks preparing intensely to lead worship that will change lives of all ages.

And I think the hands that are holding the world’s handbasket will do just fine.

Prison

Yesterday was Jackson County Government Day with the Leadership Blue Springs group that I am a part of this year. Our morning began in the legislative chambers in downtown Kansas City, where we heard from some of the different folks who keep our county humming along. From there, it was just a short walk across the street to the Jackson County Detention Center. After sitting in a windowless classroom and hearing about the facilities, we walked through many different parts of the jail. As I walked past inmates, I couldn’t help but wonder what hope looks like to people who stay there. Even though the day was bitterly cold, it felt good to step outside. In one of those so-fast-your-head-spins transitions, our after lunch stop was Arrowhead Stadium, where we got a tour of some of the luxury boxes. We went from jail to the best seats in town in such a short period of time.

By the end of the day, my cold that had been brewing blossomed from annoying to full-fledged sickness. Today was a day spent at home, mostly in bed with blankets and Kleenex. Even as achy and slimy as I am, I think about where I was yesterday, and I am grateful to be where I am today.

Following, not Leading

Last night at Barnes and Noble, I picked up a book that I am as excited about as any church book I’ve read in a long time, Leonard Sweet’s I Am a Follower. Although I haven’t finished it yet, I love his thesis: we aren’t called to be leaders, but followers of Jesus Christ. In his critique of the church leadership movement, he points out that pastors’ bookshelves (including mine) are lined with business management books. Now that the economic recession has proved many of the Good to Great companies to be flawed, the church is having to come to terms with the weaknesses of many principles they had co-opted. Sweet points out that Willow Creek Church, the source of much of modern church leadership practices, has now led the way in repenting of this infatuation with the business model. What if what we clergy need to do most is not become better leaders, but to make sure that we are genuine followers?

This week has been a challenging one in terms of losses. Usually I love the abundance of relationships and opportunities that this itinerant clergy lifestyle provides. This week, however, there have been deaths of some people significant to me in previous phases of my ministry. It has felt like a multiplication of losses. I was reading Roger Hermann’s obituary today, and it captured him perfectly. “He was a lifelong member of the Trinity United Methodist Church. The church was the center of Roger's life. If the doors were open he was there. He volunteered every Saturday taking care of anything that might be needed to prepare for the next day's service: sharpening pencils, preparing the gifts for service, making sure the pastor had water, etc.” As soon as I read those words, I pictured Roger carrying a brown tray with two small glasses of water each week- one for the pulpit, and one for the lectern. I don’t know that I ever sipped the water that he brought (I’m a dedicated hot tea drinker when I’m preaching), but it was always there. I have a hunch that, if I had sipped it, it might have tasted something like the wine of Cana.

In thinking about the life of this servant of Christ and others that I have been blessed to know, I am certain that Leonard Sweet is on to something. It’s not about leading, it’s about following and serving.

Facebook for Oldies

They say Facebook was created for the young, but I am glad that it has been co-opted by old folks like me. I have been able, amazingly, to connect with people most of a lifetime and half a continent away. I haven’t been to the Lovett School in Atlanta since my high school graduation in 1980- well, except for a visit in the 1990’s to show my children where I went to school. (Not a single teacher remembered me.) I married and moved to the Midwest, other friends married, unmarried, remarried, moved, stayed, or moved back. Losing track was inevitable. Incredibly, through the magic of Facebook, I’m now able to share witty rejoinders with folks that I was witty with in the hallways of Lovett. I’ve found daily strength from reading a blog written by someone that I was not terribly close to in high school but value deeply now. And I have reconnected with friends that were close enough that we knew our way around each other’s houses. (Susan, I will always love your childhood home for its heated floors!)

Best of all is the chance to catch glimpses of some pretty amazing adults, having shed much of the angst of middle and high school. Who knew that we’d turn out okay? It seems that we have. None of us is perfect, and we may not have the lives we imagined in those days. But here we are, and each new person that I find feels like a new perspective, an added blessing. We’ve made it this far, and I am thankful. And glad to be back in the lives, at least partly, of (as we'd say back in the day) some pretty cool dudes and dudettes.