Oceans

I was driving this afternoon along the Florida Turnpike, going to the airport after a quick trip to visit family, when a Florida Summer Thunderstorm unleashed upon me and my rental car. There is no thunderstorm like a Florida Thunderstorm. It as if the ocean (in this case, the Atlantic) had swooped up into the sky and dumped down all at once. At best, I could occasionally make out the taillights of the car ahead of me. Much of the time, I settled for catching glimpses of the lane lines between swooshes of the wipers. A few times, I couldn’t see anything at all and simply hoped the highway stayed straight. Getting from the middle lane to the shoulder to wait out the storm was an impossible dream. Thankfully, all of the traffic was forced to a crawl as we all faced the heaven-borne ocean. 

I had been fiddling with the radio knob on my rental car right before I drove into the storm. Having driven out of the range of the classical station I had been enjoying the past couple of days, I had been trying in vain to find something else agreeable. I was in the lower part of the radio, the home of NPR and multiple Christian music stations. (Confession time- I rarely listen to Christian music on the radio. Sometimes the theology makes my skin crawl, but mostly the style of music doesn’t suit my taste. I’ll be the first to say that I don’t have the best musical taste around, but I can only listen to soaring strings for short bursts.) The onslaught of the storm had stopped my search, and my radio was playing, unnoticed, on whatever it had landed on last. 

After about fifteen minutes of white-knuckled driving while the oceanic storm continued unabated, I was growing weary. And then I heard a few familiar chords out of the corner of my ear. What was that song? I paid attention to the radio for the first time since the storm began. “You call me out upon the waters.” I smiled as the words continued. “And I will call upon Your name, And keep my eyes above the waves, When oceans rise, my soul will rest in Your embrace, For I am Yours and You are mine.” I started to sing along, white knuckles and blinding rain and all.

“Your grace abounds in deepest waters
Your sovereign hand
Will be my guide
Where feet may fail and fear surrounds me
You've never failed and You won't start now.”

So I will call upon Your name
And keep my eyes above the waves
When oceans rise, my soul will rest in Your embrace
For I am Yours and You are mine.”

By the time the song ended, the rain had, also. And I just kept smiling, thankful once again for another gift of God, just the right thing at just the right time. As always.

(By the way, the name of the song is Oceans, and it’s by Hillsong United.)

A New Office

As I have unpacked into a new office this week, I have remembered who I am through the lens of the many things that I have brought with me.

Of course there are the books. I had engaged in A Great Culling before this move, selling a few books and being happily surprised that a new-to-ministry colleague was interested in the rest. (Thanks, Erika!) The books that remain with me teach me about what I hold most dear. The Interpreter’s Bible Commentary, Anne Lamott, Bibles of all types, skit books from my youth group days, my favorite theologians, and more. . . these titles and authors speak volumes (pun intended) about where I turn for inspiration. 

My office is filled also with gifts and significant objects from so many people and places. I keep track of time with the old Coca-Cola clock from the KOA campground ministry I worked at in college. Stained glass items made for me by church members make the light dance happily in my office. The wall of crosses, each with its own memory and meaning, seems like an ever-evolving work of art. Diplomas and recognitions from different times in my life are helpful for those times when I wonder if I’m really qualified for this work to which I’m called. And, of course, the hand-painted plaster-of-Paris scene of two bears in the mountains, which you’ll have to hear about in a sermon to learn the backstory, occupies a place of honor as it has for 38 years.

This space is peopled with pictures and reminders of people who are dear to me. My family, my dog, and my friends smile at me from frames near my desk. Fabric art made by one of my daughters hangs from my wall. A statue of children that was given to my father is on the shelves behind me, along with a John Wesley commemorative plate given to me by my sister. Whenever I look out the window, I look at a small graceful wooden carving given me by Andy.

My mugs take up an increasingly large space, collected from different places I’ve traveled. I’ve got mugs from my children’s colleges, and even my father’s mug from his days as Country Director of the Peace Corps. Each Sunday, I choose whichever mug seems most fitting from which to sip my hot tea during worship.

My desk has my two go-to Bibles at hand, along with a cross that’s designed to be held. There’s a mug warmer for my hot tea and coasters for cold water. Various hymnals, along with a Book of Worship and Book of Discipline, are also within easy reach. Best of all, my picture of cosmic, smiling-with-arms-open-wide Jesus that I bought from a local artist long ago hangs right where I can see it. 

When I was moving, I felt mildly embarrassed about how much stuff I was bringing with me. Surely, I thought, it shouldn’t take so many boxes just to move one person from one office to another. But I realize that my office is a place for me to occupy, to think and to write, and to derive strength for ministry. There will be groups that meet in this space, and I want them to feel comfortable and welcomed here. In this space in which I am fully myself, I long for others be fully themselves also.

Come on by, check out my new digs. I’d be glad to tell you more about what all is in here. I hope this space will make you feel at home, and that as long as you feel at home anyway, you’ll want to have a cup of tea and chat for awhile.

Not This, But That. But What's That?

Not this. The Judicial Council ruling, unsurprisingly, enshrined much of the actions of General Conference 2019. I, along with pretty much every United Methodist I know, say “not this.” 

This is not the United Methodist church that I signed up for. 

Our earlier position of not allowing “self-avowed practicing homosexuals” into the ranks of the clergy was problematic enough, but now we have removed the protection of the word “self-avowed.” Social media postings or living situations are now fair game for anyone who wants to formally out someone else. “Practicing” is no longer a protection either, removing the (not fantastic, but I know folks who have chosen it) option of remaining celibate. Nope, if you’re gay, or if someone suspects you are, you’re out of here. 

Performing same-sex weddings now has mandatory and harsh consequences. Let me be clear about the import of this action. I could have sex on the chancel of my church with someone other than my husband while rolling around in the Sunday offering that I had absconded with, and there would be no mandatory penalties. (Just to clarify, I have never done any of those things, separately or all at once, nor will I.) But if I perform a wedding for two people in love, I face an automatic one-year, unpaid suspension, and the second offense would result in the removal of my credentials. Neither the Bishop, the Board of Ordained Ministry, or the Annual Conference would have any discretion in the matter.

So I join with many, many other United Methodists in saying “not this.” This is no longer my denomination. If not this, then what? What’s next? 

One conversation suggests bringing about change by resistance. In a meeting I was in earlier this week, one person made me smile when she said, “The WCA (the group representing social conservatives) is like the dog that has caught the car.” I’m not sure they really thought they would win, and they are likely wondering what to do now. The WCA went into General Conference with articles of incorporation for their new denomination and a meeting date in April to constitute their new entity. When they won the UMC instead, they set aside their planned meeting. Now, however, they have custody of a church in schism. It appears that both progressives and a large number of moderates will be heading for the door, leaving the WCA with a fragment of the US churches and most of the churches beyond the US, including Africa for whom the UMC provides the bulk of the financial support. 

Many statements and actions of resistance are flooding our denomination already, and perhaps they will provide the WCA an excuse to revert to their original plans to leave the church. It’s hard to believe that will happen, though, when Bishop Scott Jones has announced that if 100 clergy in his Annual Conference perform same-sex unions, there will be 100 charges filed and 100 church trials held. It seemed like hyperbole when he said that before General Conference, but now it sounds like his description of reality. One person’s “act of resistance” is another person’s “simply doing the right thing,” so resistance will continue regardless.

Another conversation is being led by Adam Hamilton. He is working methodically and with great intention to create a new something, based on the best of our Wesleyan heritage and responsive to the needs of 21^st century Christians. (You can read more about it here.) I find his words and actions very hopeful. A new church could bring new opportunities to reach new generations with the love of Christ.

After the Judicial Council ruling, someone asked, “So, can progressives leave now?” While I respect the right of everyone to make their own best decision, I plan to hang around for a while. It’s just getting interesting and, one way or another, I believe we’ll end up with something a lot better than what we have now. I know it’s not this, and I can’t wait to be a part of that which God is bringing about.