I have not used social media to comment on the recent Called General Conference of the United Methodist Church that addressed LGBTQ+ issues. I will not directly do so here or in any social media post. Many of my online friends are not United Methodists, and this conversation is a family issue. The many Methodists who have talked to me about these decisions have shared views that encompass the full spectrum of our connection. Anyone who is within this family has a right to share their thoughts and feelings freely. But anyone else--it feels to me like they are commenting on my parents' divorce. It's not their business. One reason this is a painful time for us is that we are family with each other and family fights are the most painful.
We all live within our covenants. Our covenantal relationships define our lives. When our covenants are tried, our identity is on the line. Every covenant is tried from time to time. We must sometimes make hard choices to stay in covenant with those with whom we share life or to break covenant. Scripture teaches us that God is a covenantal God, that God keeps covenant with people no matter what. Still, we are fallen people and covenants force our unfaithfulness to bump up against the unfaithfulness of others. Every family, nation, congregation, marriage, friendship faces this challenging dynamic. Sometimes it hurts. From time to time, we are compelled to break covenant. Most of the time, sticking with the covenant forces us to learn the true meaning of love.
I will stay true to my covenant with the United Methodist Church. I will do all I can to seek repentance for myself and grace toward all others.
I have many dear United Methodist friends who are gay, or have children or grandchildren who are gay, or who have ministries with people who are gay. These precious children of God within my denomination are hurting right now. So I hope that my affirmation of my church will not be ill-timed to cause any more hurt.
But I still deeply love the United Methodist Church and all my brothers and sisters, no matter what their views or recent behavior may be. I sincerely hope that our denomination will hold together and that our gifts will continue to be shared with the world-wide body of Christ and for the sake of the healing of the world's suffering.
I share a few of those gifts worth preserving:
First, our denomination provides perhaps the safest environment for the the protection of children and other vulnerable populations of any expression of American Christianity. Our polity, policies, and culture protect the vulnerable and hold predators accountable.
Secondly, the United Methodist Church affirms the ministries of women as consistently as any church. I mostly grew up in more conservative traditions and watched my own mother have her calling to ministry consistently rejected. One reason that I hope our conservative and progressive wings hold together is that our connection provides perhaps the best place in American religious life for a conservative woman who is called of God to fulfill her potential in sharing the Gospel in vocational ministry.
Thirdly, all United Methodists share a deep and practiced conviction of activist mission. When my town was recently devastated by a hurricane, Methodists from around the country came to help us. Some came from WCA churches. Some came from progressive churches. Some held deeply exclusive views, and some actively support full inclusion of LGBTQ persons in all aspects of the life of the church. They all felt compelled by their understanding of the love of God to do something to help our community. We welcomed them all and were grateful to them all.
Fourthly, while United Methodists have theological disagreements, I believe we have the best theology. The world needs Wesleyan theology more now than ever. We have the best understanding of individual and corporate grace and redemption.
We struggle to understand how that theology is applied--we all believe that God loves us as we are and yet God's love transforms us into something else. While we disagree on what transformation looks like, I truly believe that, by and large, we are genuine in our desire to offer welcome to all people. Even the most conservative Methodists I know (with few exceptions) are quick to say that we need to love everyone and welcome everyone. Our ideas of what love and welcome entail are not consistent. But it is worth recognizing that many traditions are not this way--many forms of American Christianity are actively hateful to all kinds of people and seek to drive people out. Again, I say this not to minimize or excuse. But even in the most conservative churches I've served, I've felt comfortable when inviting gay people to church to tell them that no one would be cruel to them or make them feel unwelcome. Before I was a Methodist, I have been in churches where this was not the case.
Fifthly, United Methodists do not have celebrities. If you're thinking that Will Willimon or Adam Hamilton are exceptions, you don't have the first clue what a cult of personality driven religious community is about. Believe me, this is a very good thing. We are not free from our own forms of pride and vainglory, but we have a kind of humility built into our ethos that keeps in check a kind of spiritual cancer that our culture celebrates and many church cultures embrace.
I could go on and on. Methodism almost universally values substance over show. It embraces learning without empty intellectualism, theological clarity without dogmatism. It's community based. It has systems in place to provide financial accountability at all levels. These are good things and they are rare. I was not raised United Methodist. Perhaps I still have covert's enthusiasm. But I believe, warts and all, we are a great option, maybe the best option.
I have become increasingly careful not to expect the United Methodist Church to conform to my ideas of what it should or might be. In "Life Together," Dietrich Bonhoeffer said that we enter the Christian community not as dreamers making demands, but as grateful participants. I am grateful to the people of the United Methodist Church that they welcomed me, a sinner and an outsider, and have given me a treasured place. They have nurtured my children and carried me through untold difficulties.
The United Methodists who have extended grace to me, loved me imperfectly but well, and made me who I am, are people who fit every description--conservative, moderate, progressive, straight, gay, WCA, Reconciling, Southern, Northern, black, white, Asian, Hispanic. Many have joined the Church Triumphant and are, I pray, interceding for us even through this tribulation.
Tuesday, July 23, 2019
Why Churches Should Send Their Pastors Away
When I began ministry many years ago as a youth pastor, the senior pastor I worked for offered me the very good advice that the largest part of a pastor's job is to be present. Unfortunately, I've also tended to see time away as a drawback to the church, a concession they gave me. Mostly, churches don't feel that way. They have tended to encourage me to enjoy vacations, ministry in other contexts, and continuing education experiences. I've had particular support in this regard from my current congregation. Upon returning from the first long vacation I've taken in years, I've been reflecting on reasons that congregations should not only give pastors time away for the pastor's sake, but also for their own self-interest.
1. When congregations encourage rest, renewal, and family connection, their pastors work more diligently, gratefully, and joyfully throughout the rest of the year.
2. Being a pastor has much more to do with the way work is done than it does with the number of hours worked. A pastor whose soul is diminished and who is tired and stressed will make poor decisions and have a poor attitude. When a pastor's soul is in trouble, more work creates more problems for the congregation. It's not like cutting lawns or shoveling snow. When ministry is done from a healthy place, the hours worked will bring fruit and good things for the congregation.
3. When a pastor's family feels neglected, the pastor begins to feel pulled between the competing interests of the family and the church. When a pastor's family feels supported by the congregation and satisfied that the pastor invests time and attention to the family, the pastor is freed to do ministry with support from the family.
4. Going away allows that pastor to see things with fresh eyes. Once, I moved into a home with a small rust stain on the carpet. At first, it drove me crazy. Soon, I never noticed it. When we first arrive at a church, we recognize opportunities and challenges clearly. After time goes by, we acclimate and forget. Going away and returning allows us to come back with newness of vision.
5. It's a very good thing for other people besides the primary pastor to preach. People need to hear fresh voices. The primary pastor needs a break from the incessant return of Sunday. Developing preachers need an opportunity to develop. The primary preacher needs to embody the reality that he or she does not have a corner on the Word of God.
6. When the pastor ministers elsewhere--preaching in other pulpits, mission trips, etc.--the home congregation benefits in many ways. Recently I preached at a former congregation and told of our church's ministry recovering from a hurricane. The congregation I visited gave thousands of dollars to my home church for hurricane ministry. The connections I maintain with other congregations have created partnerships that have proved invaluable in our recovery in many ways. Being connected has paid off big for our church with staff searches. Above all, when a pastor does ministry somewhere else, the pastor embodies the reality that no single congregation contains the Church, that we are all in ministry to all people everywhere and partners in ministry with all other congregations.
7. Pastors often act as if their role in the daily functioning of the church is absolutely essential at all times. This is very unhealthy. When the pastor is away, staff and lay leadership are forced to run things on their own. They find out that they can do so just fine! This allows leadership and the congregation as a whole to function more smoothly and in a more healthy manner whether the pastor is there or not.
8. Pastors have fresh experiences, learn new things, and become more interesting people when they get out of their routine. Once, when visiting relatives in Ithaca, NY, I encountered the idea of a "Alternative Gift Fair" in which people could shop for donations to local non-profits to give in lieu of Christmas presents. I brought this idea back to Montgomery, AL and it was a big hit. We all get stuck telling the same stories, doing the same things. A church whose pastor has a life outside of church life will necessarily be a more interesting person who makes church life more rich and meaningful.
1. When congregations encourage rest, renewal, and family connection, their pastors work more diligently, gratefully, and joyfully throughout the rest of the year.
2. Being a pastor has much more to do with the way work is done than it does with the number of hours worked. A pastor whose soul is diminished and who is tired and stressed will make poor decisions and have a poor attitude. When a pastor's soul is in trouble, more work creates more problems for the congregation. It's not like cutting lawns or shoveling snow. When ministry is done from a healthy place, the hours worked will bring fruit and good things for the congregation.
3. When a pastor's family feels neglected, the pastor begins to feel pulled between the competing interests of the family and the church. When a pastor's family feels supported by the congregation and satisfied that the pastor invests time and attention to the family, the pastor is freed to do ministry with support from the family.
4. Going away allows that pastor to see things with fresh eyes. Once, I moved into a home with a small rust stain on the carpet. At first, it drove me crazy. Soon, I never noticed it. When we first arrive at a church, we recognize opportunities and challenges clearly. After time goes by, we acclimate and forget. Going away and returning allows us to come back with newness of vision.
5. It's a very good thing for other people besides the primary pastor to preach. People need to hear fresh voices. The primary pastor needs a break from the incessant return of Sunday. Developing preachers need an opportunity to develop. The primary preacher needs to embody the reality that he or she does not have a corner on the Word of God.
6. When the pastor ministers elsewhere--preaching in other pulpits, mission trips, etc.--the home congregation benefits in many ways. Recently I preached at a former congregation and told of our church's ministry recovering from a hurricane. The congregation I visited gave thousands of dollars to my home church for hurricane ministry. The connections I maintain with other congregations have created partnerships that have proved invaluable in our recovery in many ways. Being connected has paid off big for our church with staff searches. Above all, when a pastor does ministry somewhere else, the pastor embodies the reality that no single congregation contains the Church, that we are all in ministry to all people everywhere and partners in ministry with all other congregations.
7. Pastors often act as if their role in the daily functioning of the church is absolutely essential at all times. This is very unhealthy. When the pastor is away, staff and lay leadership are forced to run things on their own. They find out that they can do so just fine! This allows leadership and the congregation as a whole to function more smoothly and in a more healthy manner whether the pastor is there or not.
8. Pastors have fresh experiences, learn new things, and become more interesting people when they get out of their routine. Once, when visiting relatives in Ithaca, NY, I encountered the idea of a "Alternative Gift Fair" in which people could shop for donations to local non-profits to give in lieu of Christmas presents. I brought this idea back to Montgomery, AL and it was a big hit. We all get stuck telling the same stories, doing the same things. A church whose pastor has a life outside of church life will necessarily be a more interesting person who makes church life more rich and meaningful.
Thursday, August 16, 2018
Reading the "Brothers Karamazov"
I just read Fyodor Dostoyevsky's "The Brothers Karamazov." It's about 750 pages, dialogue heavy, written in Russian in the 19th century. It started out as a pretty tough slog, but I've always heard how great it was and I wanted to experience it myself. It was, indeed, definitely worth the time and effort. In case anyone else decides to take the plunge on this great classic, I thought I might share a word of advice that made the book open up for me.
"The Brothers Karamazov" is divided into four parts and twelve books. Each book contains many smaller chapters, sometimes a dozen or more chapters per book. And there's an epilogue with three additional final chapters. Whew!
Shortly after I began reading the book, I read somewhere that it was originally publishes as a serial. Like the writings of many 19th century novelists, Dostoyevsky published "The Brothers Karamazov" in installments, short articles, in a magazine. The first readers would have read the book a week at a time. The whole thing came out over a period of two years.
It feels overwhelming to read the whole thing all at once. That's because it was never meant to be experienced that way. Reading all of "The Brothers Karamazov" front to back is like binge watching a decade of "Friends" over a weekend.
That analogy--comparing the totality of the book to a long-running series--was a very helpful key for me to engage. I treated the books as seasons in a series and the short chapters as episodes designed to be experienced with an integrity each in themselves designed to build suspense leading into the next one. The book as a whole, much like a dramatic series like The Sopranos or Six Feet Under, holds together much more through the relationship the reader builds with the book's complex, compelling character than it does through the plot. And the point of the book (again, much like the best dramatic TV series) is an exploration of consistent and heavy existential themes as the characters navigate complicated and sometimes crazy circumstances.
That might not help anyone but me. But if you love TV dramas and can binge watch a really good Showtime or Netflix series, I believe you could really enjoy "The Brothers Karamazov" by approaching it similarly.
"The Brothers Karamazov" is divided into four parts and twelve books. Each book contains many smaller chapters, sometimes a dozen or more chapters per book. And there's an epilogue with three additional final chapters. Whew!
Shortly after I began reading the book, I read somewhere that it was originally publishes as a serial. Like the writings of many 19th century novelists, Dostoyevsky published "The Brothers Karamazov" in installments, short articles, in a magazine. The first readers would have read the book a week at a time. The whole thing came out over a period of two years.
It feels overwhelming to read the whole thing all at once. That's because it was never meant to be experienced that way. Reading all of "The Brothers Karamazov" front to back is like binge watching a decade of "Friends" over a weekend.
That analogy--comparing the totality of the book to a long-running series--was a very helpful key for me to engage. I treated the books as seasons in a series and the short chapters as episodes designed to be experienced with an integrity each in themselves designed to build suspense leading into the next one. The book as a whole, much like a dramatic series like The Sopranos or Six Feet Under, holds together much more through the relationship the reader builds with the book's complex, compelling character than it does through the plot. And the point of the book (again, much like the best dramatic TV series) is an exploration of consistent and heavy existential themes as the characters navigate complicated and sometimes crazy circumstances.
That might not help anyone but me. But if you love TV dramas and can binge watch a really good Showtime or Netflix series, I believe you could really enjoy "The Brothers Karamazov" by approaching it similarly.
Thursday, August 9, 2018
A Modest Methodist Proposal Regarding Union and Disunion
If, like me, you are a United Methodist, you are likely aware that our denomination is having its turn going through troubles. Like us, many mainline denominations have cultural divides that have erupted over the issue of human sexuality. Next year, we have a special world-wide meeting to discuss how we will deal with this issue (for non-Methodists--the name of the meeting is "called General Conference").
Our bishops have made three recommendations regarding how the General Conference might approach the issue. None of these are acceptable to everyone. All of them have serious problems.
So we United Methodists are very likely to split. In preparation for schism, some conservatives among us have put together a group called the "Wesleyan Covenant Association," which provides the connections and infrastructure for a new denomination if they do not get their way at General Conference 2019 (and perhaps even if they do get their way). At first, they said the WCA was not a preparation for schism, but they have given up even pretending that they only wanted to express their views and lobby for enforcement of our church's rules on these matters. They now have their own conferences, apportionments ("membership fees"), and curriculum. We have churches that are still United Methodist Churches and yet are members of the WCA--simultaneously part of an existing denominational covenant and also members of a secondary covenant with a new denomination that might or might not come into existence. It's as if these churches and pastors have moved in with the girlfriend while they are waiting for the divorce from the wife to be finalized.
I strongly believe in covenants. I believe schism is a sin. I believe that faith communities hold together as an expression of our belief in God's steadfast love and faithfulness. Splitting from each other on the basis of our perception of others' unfaithfulness is a lived heresy. We stay together because of God's faithfulness, not because of our own faithfulness or the faithfulness of others with whom we are in covenant. So my hope and prayer is that the UMC will hold together and that we will not split up. I will not participate in any other covenant group as long as there is a United Methodist Church, for the same reason that I will not have a Tinder account as long as I am married.
The WCA (as well as progressive covenantal communities like the "Reconciling Movement," which also has member churches and pastors) make me pessimistic that people who see the situation like I see it will prevail in these conversations. As much as it pains and sickens me, it feels to me that a split is almost inevitable.
To be clear, I'm for unity. But if unity is impossible, I have another idea besides a split. My idea is crazy and I share it almost tongue-in-cheek. But everyone with whom I've shared this idea likes it. So here it goes.
First, the last thing the world needs is more denominations. To split up the second largest Protestant denomination into two or three denominations is crazy. We don't need more denominations. We have too many of them already. If anything, we should be consolidating rather than fracturing.
Second, the splits within the UMC are mirrored in all the mainline denominations. A progressive PCUSA Presbyterian Church has lots more in common with a progressive United Methodist than either has with their conservative counterparts in the same denomination.
So, rather than a split, how about a realignment?
If they just can't stand to pray and serve and live in the same tent with New York liberal United Methodists, what if the WCA people, instead of creating a new denomination, just united with the Church of the Nazarene? Or the Wesleyan Church? Or any of the existing conservative denominations in the greater Methodist family? Or all of them?
Of course, this proposal assumes that the WCA's concerns are what they say they are and that they are not just seeking to free themselves from the accountability and shared concerns of a greater covenant community while using complaints about liberalism as a mask for personal ambitions and personal power. But I'm quite sure the WCA folks are uniformly concerned about ethical purity, so a merger with the Nazarenes should be no problem. Assuming that the Nazarenes would take them.
And the Northeastern United Methodists--they could just hook up with the Episcopalians. They seem to want to be Episcopalians anyway. John Wesley was an Anglican. Why not go back to our roots? Maybe the West Coast UMCs could do the same thing, or maybe they could join the PCUSA or the Unitarian Universalists. This might be a great opportunity for all the progressives mainlines (including whatever Lutheran group Nadia Bolz-Weber is in, the American Baptists, the Congregationalists, anyone who just can't get enough of Barbara Brown Taylor) to lash their rafts together and make a go of it. They did it in Canada. Progressives love Canada.
What about the rest of us? The good, old fashioned, John Wesley quoting, casserole eating, hymnal using, acronym-addicted, agenda-less, centrist, institution-trusting, non-axe-grinding, easy going Methodists? Many of us have no interest in being in a WCA style of denomination, but we are concerned about the kind of UMC we would have left if we lost the orthodox pull of our conservatives. Many of us see ourselves as moderates--theological orthodox, creedal, biblical Christians, but not quite so wrapped around the axle about the evangelical political social agenda as our Good News/WCA/Confessing Movement culture warrior friends. Where do we fit? What kind of UMC would be left for people like us?
How about if we hooked up with the CME, AME and AMEZ? They, too have a commitment to orthodoxy and true Methodist covenantal connectionalism, only without the right wing political agenda. I believe I could find a home there. Whenever I find myself in an AME church, it feels very much like home.
So there's my crazy idea. Plan B if unity fails should be realignment, not division. The idea is terrible, I know, and absurdly impractical. But a split is also an impractical absurd idea. My idea does much less violence to the Body of Christ and our Lord's prayer that we would all be one.
Our bishops have made three recommendations regarding how the General Conference might approach the issue. None of these are acceptable to everyone. All of them have serious problems.
So we United Methodists are very likely to split. In preparation for schism, some conservatives among us have put together a group called the "Wesleyan Covenant Association," which provides the connections and infrastructure for a new denomination if they do not get their way at General Conference 2019 (and perhaps even if they do get their way). At first, they said the WCA was not a preparation for schism, but they have given up even pretending that they only wanted to express their views and lobby for enforcement of our church's rules on these matters. They now have their own conferences, apportionments ("membership fees"), and curriculum. We have churches that are still United Methodist Churches and yet are members of the WCA--simultaneously part of an existing denominational covenant and also members of a secondary covenant with a new denomination that might or might not come into existence. It's as if these churches and pastors have moved in with the girlfriend while they are waiting for the divorce from the wife to be finalized.
I strongly believe in covenants. I believe schism is a sin. I believe that faith communities hold together as an expression of our belief in God's steadfast love and faithfulness. Splitting from each other on the basis of our perception of others' unfaithfulness is a lived heresy. We stay together because of God's faithfulness, not because of our own faithfulness or the faithfulness of others with whom we are in covenant. So my hope and prayer is that the UMC will hold together and that we will not split up. I will not participate in any other covenant group as long as there is a United Methodist Church, for the same reason that I will not have a Tinder account as long as I am married.
The WCA (as well as progressive covenantal communities like the "Reconciling Movement," which also has member churches and pastors) make me pessimistic that people who see the situation like I see it will prevail in these conversations. As much as it pains and sickens me, it feels to me that a split is almost inevitable.
To be clear, I'm for unity. But if unity is impossible, I have another idea besides a split. My idea is crazy and I share it almost tongue-in-cheek. But everyone with whom I've shared this idea likes it. So here it goes.
First, the last thing the world needs is more denominations. To split up the second largest Protestant denomination into two or three denominations is crazy. We don't need more denominations. We have too many of them already. If anything, we should be consolidating rather than fracturing.
Second, the splits within the UMC are mirrored in all the mainline denominations. A progressive PCUSA Presbyterian Church has lots more in common with a progressive United Methodist than either has with their conservative counterparts in the same denomination.
So, rather than a split, how about a realignment?
If they just can't stand to pray and serve and live in the same tent with New York liberal United Methodists, what if the WCA people, instead of creating a new denomination, just united with the Church of the Nazarene? Or the Wesleyan Church? Or any of the existing conservative denominations in the greater Methodist family? Or all of them?
Of course, this proposal assumes that the WCA's concerns are what they say they are and that they are not just seeking to free themselves from the accountability and shared concerns of a greater covenant community while using complaints about liberalism as a mask for personal ambitions and personal power. But I'm quite sure the WCA folks are uniformly concerned about ethical purity, so a merger with the Nazarenes should be no problem. Assuming that the Nazarenes would take them.
And the Northeastern United Methodists--they could just hook up with the Episcopalians. They seem to want to be Episcopalians anyway. John Wesley was an Anglican. Why not go back to our roots? Maybe the West Coast UMCs could do the same thing, or maybe they could join the PCUSA or the Unitarian Universalists. This might be a great opportunity for all the progressives mainlines (including whatever Lutheran group Nadia Bolz-Weber is in, the American Baptists, the Congregationalists, anyone who just can't get enough of Barbara Brown Taylor) to lash their rafts together and make a go of it. They did it in Canada. Progressives love Canada.
What about the rest of us? The good, old fashioned, John Wesley quoting, casserole eating, hymnal using, acronym-addicted, agenda-less, centrist, institution-trusting, non-axe-grinding, easy going Methodists? Many of us have no interest in being in a WCA style of denomination, but we are concerned about the kind of UMC we would have left if we lost the orthodox pull of our conservatives. Many of us see ourselves as moderates--theological orthodox, creedal, biblical Christians, but not quite so wrapped around the axle about the evangelical political social agenda as our Good News/WCA/Confessing Movement culture warrior friends. Where do we fit? What kind of UMC would be left for people like us?
How about if we hooked up with the CME, AME and AMEZ? They, too have a commitment to orthodoxy and true Methodist covenantal connectionalism, only without the right wing political agenda. I believe I could find a home there. Whenever I find myself in an AME church, it feels very much like home.
So there's my crazy idea. Plan B if unity fails should be realignment, not division. The idea is terrible, I know, and absurdly impractical. But a split is also an impractical absurd idea. My idea does much less violence to the Body of Christ and our Lord's prayer that we would all be one.
Wednesday, May 30, 2018
Hurt
Last fall, I foolishly took up basketball again. I'm 43 and I should be done with it by now. But I loved to play, and basketball was a regular part of my life from my teen years until a hip problem made me cut it out a few years ago.
The hip started feeling better. I was in Wal-mart with my wife and spotted a basketball. I couldn't resist. I picked it up and began going to the park everyday. The ball was falling through the hoop again, better than I expected. I even played some pick-up games and held my own with folks less than half my age. I had aches and pains, especially in my knees and ankles. But that was to be expected and I figured it would get better.
It didn't. My knee kept swelling and had to be drained. I decided to take some time off to heal up. It didn't help. Every time I sat down for a while, my knees stiffened up terribly. Every time I tried to exercise, every step hurt. I wore braces on both knees all the time. Months passed. No improvement. I began to put on weight. I finally went to the doctor. The doctor sent me to an orthopedic doctor.
The orthopedic doctor told me that I had nothing wrong with me except arthritis. She said that I had inflamed my knees, that I needed to take Aleve, use cushioned inserts in my shoes, and most of all, keep moving. She told me that my knees were getting worse because I responded to the pain by becoming inactive, that the swelling and stiffness would be helped by low impact exercise.
So I started going to the gym every day. Each and every day. Half hour on the stationary bike, weights, half hour on the elliptical machine. Spin class on Wednesdays. It worked! After months of this regimen, my knees feel much better. I can feel the pain and stiffness all the time, especially when I sit for a while. But sometimes it's barely noticeable. Along the way, I've lost a good bit of weight and improved my overall health and well-being.
I've learned something from this experience. I've always tried to stay in shape and remain active. But health and vanity have never been enough for me to keep at it long-term. The only thing that brings me back to the gym every day is pain. Pain is my reminder that I need to obey my doctor and do what it takes to get well.
The Apostle Paul once said that he was given a thorn in the flesh, a messenger from Satan, "to buffet" him. Three times he begged God to remove it from him. Three times God refused. Finally, Paul heard the voice of the Spirit tell him that God's grace would be enough for him, that God's power would be made perfect in him through weakness.
I have no clue what Paul's thorn was, but I know a bit about my thorns. There's the pain in my knees that brings me back to the gym, of course. That pain is something I would love to do without. But I'm also aware that God has used it as a constant reminder of my need to do what it takes to get better. I'm grateful in a way, though I'd sure prefer anything else. It seems that the awful truth about me is that I'm too stubborn or lazy or distracted to learn from any other teacher except pain.
I have other thorns. Paul wouldn't name his, and I don't blame him. I'm claiming the fifth on all my meaningful thorns, too. Some have to do with my emotional health, some relate to my relationships, some relate to my discipleship. I want them fixed. I want them handled. I want them over. I want them removed.
But they probably won't be removed in this life, as far as I can tell. I don't think God put them there. They will not be in the New Jerusalem. But in the meantime, they will nag at me, humble me, and drag my face to the ground to keep me continually at the foot of the cross. I would love to think that God would just remove what I don't like about myself or my life. But I've learned that I would quickly forget him if he did. I would quickly become proud and superior.
That's not to say that I can live with my thorns. If I ignore them or treat them my own way, they will kill me and all that I treasure most. My arthritis was crippling me. My thorns are crippling me. But if I will continually use the pain of my thorns to bring my weakness to Christ, then God will manage the wounds and use my battle against the thorns as a way not only to improve the thorns but also to bring life and healing to the rest of me.
Sometimes, I've known alcoholics and people who love alcoholics who went to treatment and put time into 12 step groups when the pain of alcoholism become to much to bear. All they wanted was to get relief from the alcoholic situation. And the pain usually got better, but it never went away. The alcoholism may or may not have improved. But I've seen over and over again that the application of grace to the pain of the alcoholism did more than treat the alcoholism. Just as my treatment of my knee pain brought strength to my whole body (and mind, too), the grace applied to their alcoholism made them better, stronger, more loving, wiser people and improved everything else in their lives.
This is a mystery. But it's a mystery we must embrace. I've known lots of people, each and every one with, a thorn, a pain, just under the surface. Some of them tried to surgically remove the thorn, or they tried to numb the pain, or they pretended it wasn't there. I've seen thorns badly managed. I've seen them kill.
You have a thorn, too. It may be that if you will allow the pain of your thorn to draw you to Christ that your thorn will be the agent of your healing and the portal through which Christ's strength renews you and makes you whole. It may be that you, like me, can only be shaken from your distraction by the pain of the thorn, that good intentions and accountability and discipline just won't hack it. If so, then may the grace of God be enough for all of us and may his power be made perfect in our weakness.
The hip started feeling better. I was in Wal-mart with my wife and spotted a basketball. I couldn't resist. I picked it up and began going to the park everyday. The ball was falling through the hoop again, better than I expected. I even played some pick-up games and held my own with folks less than half my age. I had aches and pains, especially in my knees and ankles. But that was to be expected and I figured it would get better.
It didn't. My knee kept swelling and had to be drained. I decided to take some time off to heal up. It didn't help. Every time I sat down for a while, my knees stiffened up terribly. Every time I tried to exercise, every step hurt. I wore braces on both knees all the time. Months passed. No improvement. I began to put on weight. I finally went to the doctor. The doctor sent me to an orthopedic doctor.
The orthopedic doctor told me that I had nothing wrong with me except arthritis. She said that I had inflamed my knees, that I needed to take Aleve, use cushioned inserts in my shoes, and most of all, keep moving. She told me that my knees were getting worse because I responded to the pain by becoming inactive, that the swelling and stiffness would be helped by low impact exercise.
So I started going to the gym every day. Each and every day. Half hour on the stationary bike, weights, half hour on the elliptical machine. Spin class on Wednesdays. It worked! After months of this regimen, my knees feel much better. I can feel the pain and stiffness all the time, especially when I sit for a while. But sometimes it's barely noticeable. Along the way, I've lost a good bit of weight and improved my overall health and well-being.
I've learned something from this experience. I've always tried to stay in shape and remain active. But health and vanity have never been enough for me to keep at it long-term. The only thing that brings me back to the gym every day is pain. Pain is my reminder that I need to obey my doctor and do what it takes to get well.
The Apostle Paul once said that he was given a thorn in the flesh, a messenger from Satan, "to buffet" him. Three times he begged God to remove it from him. Three times God refused. Finally, Paul heard the voice of the Spirit tell him that God's grace would be enough for him, that God's power would be made perfect in him through weakness.
I have no clue what Paul's thorn was, but I know a bit about my thorns. There's the pain in my knees that brings me back to the gym, of course. That pain is something I would love to do without. But I'm also aware that God has used it as a constant reminder of my need to do what it takes to get better. I'm grateful in a way, though I'd sure prefer anything else. It seems that the awful truth about me is that I'm too stubborn or lazy or distracted to learn from any other teacher except pain.
I have other thorns. Paul wouldn't name his, and I don't blame him. I'm claiming the fifth on all my meaningful thorns, too. Some have to do with my emotional health, some relate to my relationships, some relate to my discipleship. I want them fixed. I want them handled. I want them over. I want them removed.
But they probably won't be removed in this life, as far as I can tell. I don't think God put them there. They will not be in the New Jerusalem. But in the meantime, they will nag at me, humble me, and drag my face to the ground to keep me continually at the foot of the cross. I would love to think that God would just remove what I don't like about myself or my life. But I've learned that I would quickly forget him if he did. I would quickly become proud and superior.
That's not to say that I can live with my thorns. If I ignore them or treat them my own way, they will kill me and all that I treasure most. My arthritis was crippling me. My thorns are crippling me. But if I will continually use the pain of my thorns to bring my weakness to Christ, then God will manage the wounds and use my battle against the thorns as a way not only to improve the thorns but also to bring life and healing to the rest of me.
Sometimes, I've known alcoholics and people who love alcoholics who went to treatment and put time into 12 step groups when the pain of alcoholism become to much to bear. All they wanted was to get relief from the alcoholic situation. And the pain usually got better, but it never went away. The alcoholism may or may not have improved. But I've seen over and over again that the application of grace to the pain of the alcoholism did more than treat the alcoholism. Just as my treatment of my knee pain brought strength to my whole body (and mind, too), the grace applied to their alcoholism made them better, stronger, more loving, wiser people and improved everything else in their lives.
This is a mystery. But it's a mystery we must embrace. I've known lots of people, each and every one with, a thorn, a pain, just under the surface. Some of them tried to surgically remove the thorn, or they tried to numb the pain, or they pretended it wasn't there. I've seen thorns badly managed. I've seen them kill.
You have a thorn, too. It may be that if you will allow the pain of your thorn to draw you to Christ that your thorn will be the agent of your healing and the portal through which Christ's strength renews you and makes you whole. It may be that you, like me, can only be shaken from your distraction by the pain of the thorn, that good intentions and accountability and discipline just won't hack it. If so, then may the grace of God be enough for all of us and may his power be made perfect in our weakness.
Saturday, April 7, 2018
Caffeine Free
My life has been surprisingly changed by what I expected to be a minor adjustment.
I've up drinking coffee (and all other caffeinated beverages, also).
My relationship with coffee began when I was sixteen years old. I was an extremely busy teenager, made good grades, played in the youth group praise band, and worked over 30 hours per week at the local hardware store. Saturday mornings started way too early. I would pour a cup of heavily sugared coffee and sip it as I made my way through the aisles helping customers, cycling through the store and back to the coffee pot all day long.
A dozen years of theological education, late night paper writing, burning the candle at both ends while working and serving churches only solidified my addiction.
We Methodists treat coffee as the third sacrament. Coffee is everywhere. I've loved my coffee habit. I have a whole collection of coffee makers--french press, Keurig, Ninja, Italian stovetop expresso maker. I love the taste, the warmth, the buzz.
But I was starting to be concerned. My sleep has been off for a long time. I knew I was drinking way too much coffee, drinking cup after cup all day long and into the afternoon. I was tired a lot and knew I was treating an addiction cycle less and less successfully.
So I decided to give it up for Lent and see how it went. I'd done it before about a decade ago, painfully. That time, I had terrible headaches. I also had a surreal experience of feeling as if my head was disconnecting from my body while I was sitting in a meeting. But I got through all that and felt great for a while--until Holy Week hit and I fell off the wagon.
This time was easier. Easter morning came, and I had a decision to make--to joe or not to joe. I decided to stay off of it.
Coffee's great and everyone I know drinks it, so please don't get tangled up about what I'm going to say next about what I am discovering. Please drink your Joe. I'm just telling you what I'm learning.
First of all, I feel better. I sleep better. I wake up more easily in the morning. I've had terrible nighttime heartburn for years, but no more. All of that is good.
I'm also discovering that I have habituated the moderation of my mood and energy with a substance for my entire adult life. It's been a huge adjustment now that it's gone. Sometimes, my energy dips and I feel like a nap. I have a knee jerk reaction to get a warm drink. I tried drinking green tea for a while, but it doesn't do anything. What am I supposed to do? Just be tired? Maybe so. Maybe when you're tired you're supposed to be tired and not mask it with a drug! It's dawned on me that it has never been a healthy thing to regulate my energy this way, that all along maybe I should sleep when I'm tired, get some exercise, or adjust what I do so that my activity energized me.
I'm also noticing that my approach to life is changing a bit. Caffeine doesn't just wake you up. It makes you nervous. It makes you edgy, especially when you've had too much. It makes you impatient. I'm getting used to feeling less driven, less busy-feeling. This is a good thing, especially for a spiritual leader. But I have to admit it feels a little like boredom. Who would have thought that I would need to relearn how to be motivated without coffee?
So my caffeine-free experiment is producing some more substantive results.
I have no clue whether this is true or not, but many years ago I heard that evangelical Christians in Germany don't have the kind of taboo about alcohol that American Christian conservatives have. Beer is perfectly OK for them. But they don't allow caffeine. Mormons don't allow caffeine either. Seventh-day Adventists avoid it, too.
I'm not into any kind of prohibitions. I grew up around prohibitions and I found them suffocating. The Apostle Paul prohibits prohibitions, thank God. But I am thinking some about how any kind of substance (caffeine, refined sugar, alcohol, nicotine, etc.) that we use to alter our mood, perception, personality, energy puts a hook in us and masks our need to find behavioral remedies for our weaknesses and challenges. That's not healthy, physically or spiritually. It was for freedom that Christ has set us free.
I've up drinking coffee (and all other caffeinated beverages, also).
My relationship with coffee began when I was sixteen years old. I was an extremely busy teenager, made good grades, played in the youth group praise band, and worked over 30 hours per week at the local hardware store. Saturday mornings started way too early. I would pour a cup of heavily sugared coffee and sip it as I made my way through the aisles helping customers, cycling through the store and back to the coffee pot all day long.
A dozen years of theological education, late night paper writing, burning the candle at both ends while working and serving churches only solidified my addiction.
We Methodists treat coffee as the third sacrament. Coffee is everywhere. I've loved my coffee habit. I have a whole collection of coffee makers--french press, Keurig, Ninja, Italian stovetop expresso maker. I love the taste, the warmth, the buzz.
But I was starting to be concerned. My sleep has been off for a long time. I knew I was drinking way too much coffee, drinking cup after cup all day long and into the afternoon. I was tired a lot and knew I was treating an addiction cycle less and less successfully.
So I decided to give it up for Lent and see how it went. I'd done it before about a decade ago, painfully. That time, I had terrible headaches. I also had a surreal experience of feeling as if my head was disconnecting from my body while I was sitting in a meeting. But I got through all that and felt great for a while--until Holy Week hit and I fell off the wagon.
This time was easier. Easter morning came, and I had a decision to make--to joe or not to joe. I decided to stay off of it.
Coffee's great and everyone I know drinks it, so please don't get tangled up about what I'm going to say next about what I am discovering. Please drink your Joe. I'm just telling you what I'm learning.
First of all, I feel better. I sleep better. I wake up more easily in the morning. I've had terrible nighttime heartburn for years, but no more. All of that is good.
I'm also discovering that I have habituated the moderation of my mood and energy with a substance for my entire adult life. It's been a huge adjustment now that it's gone. Sometimes, my energy dips and I feel like a nap. I have a knee jerk reaction to get a warm drink. I tried drinking green tea for a while, but it doesn't do anything. What am I supposed to do? Just be tired? Maybe so. Maybe when you're tired you're supposed to be tired and not mask it with a drug! It's dawned on me that it has never been a healthy thing to regulate my energy this way, that all along maybe I should sleep when I'm tired, get some exercise, or adjust what I do so that my activity energized me.
I'm also noticing that my approach to life is changing a bit. Caffeine doesn't just wake you up. It makes you nervous. It makes you edgy, especially when you've had too much. It makes you impatient. I'm getting used to feeling less driven, less busy-feeling. This is a good thing, especially for a spiritual leader. But I have to admit it feels a little like boredom. Who would have thought that I would need to relearn how to be motivated without coffee?
So my caffeine-free experiment is producing some more substantive results.
I have no clue whether this is true or not, but many years ago I heard that evangelical Christians in Germany don't have the kind of taboo about alcohol that American Christian conservatives have. Beer is perfectly OK for them. But they don't allow caffeine. Mormons don't allow caffeine either. Seventh-day Adventists avoid it, too.
I'm not into any kind of prohibitions. I grew up around prohibitions and I found them suffocating. The Apostle Paul prohibits prohibitions, thank God. But I am thinking some about how any kind of substance (caffeine, refined sugar, alcohol, nicotine, etc.) that we use to alter our mood, perception, personality, energy puts a hook in us and masks our need to find behavioral remedies for our weaknesses and challenges. That's not healthy, physically or spiritually. It was for freedom that Christ has set us free.
Thursday, February 9, 2017
Thoughts on Eberhard Bethge's "Dietrich Bonhoeffer: A Biography"
I've recently finished reading the nearly thousand page biography written by Bonhoeffer's close friend, Eberhard Bethge. It was fascinating reading, even though the writing style is a bit challenging, no doubt because it was translated from German, and also because its meticulous detail, particularly regarding Bonhoeffer's participation in ecumenical gatherings, is often ponderous.
I admittedly tackled the book now because I thought it would provide guidance in the midst of a challenging time in our own country's collective life. Many people are deeply concerned about perceived challenges in the new administration to religious and ethnic minorities, the rule of law, free press, and the relationship between faith and culture. Bonhoeffer has been depicted as a hero, a pastor and theologian who navigated fidelity to the Gospel in challenging times. My hope was that this life and teachings could inform the way forward. Bonhoeffer's story has been helpful for these issues and for many more.
I was struck by how much Bonhoeffer's concern was consistently for the witness of the church as the church rather than using the church for advocacy in the midst of political controversy. Bonhoeffer was consistently opposed to Hitler. But his central concern was not to oppose Hitler, at least initially. His central concern was that the state would not so influence the Church that the Church was not longer be the Church.
The perfect example of this concern was the issue of the Aryan Clause. The Aryan Clause required that German government officials prove their Western European ethnic heritage. German pastors were employed indirectly by the nation because Germany had (and still has) a state church. Confessing Church Christians affirmed that ordination must be sealed off from the power of the state because only the Christian community could determine fitness for ministry. The Church must welcome all people, so it cannot use an ethnic test for ordination. Otherwise, the Church, even if it does religious things, is nothing more than an organ of the state and is no true community of the living Christ.
I find this helpful. Though the Church has a responsibility to advocate for all people, I don't think that the Church faces an existential crisis in the way that the German church did in Bonhoeffer's time. Bonhoeffer never said that a disciple couldn't be a Hitler supporter. He certainly never said that Christians couldn't support the German nation in the war effort--many Confessing pastors and many of his own students served in the war and even volunteered for service. There is a place for people of every political persuasion in Christ's community, even people who are profoundly wrong in all kinds of ways. The line we must draw is in making the church an arm of any political movement, even a good one. The Church must not be coopted into making Christ the servant of an earthly purpose, even a good one, and certainly not a bad one. This is an important line to draw as Christian people are so polarized in our churches. It's the line that the Barmen Declaration draws. I am hopeful that one unexpected benefit for the Church in the midst of our current cynicism about politics is that people who have strong political opinions will recognize that their views are not necessarily God's views and that God will not be brought into our political disputes. It seems to me that most Christians are less likely to claim that their politician or movement is God's person or movement than they were in the Messiah-talk I heard with President Bush or, contrarily, about President Obama. I hope I'm not wrong about this. But it looks to me that though the times are difficult they may actually be good for breaking our habit of equating leaders or political parties with identification with Christianity.
Something completely different--Bonhoeffer's little seminary at Finklewalde was, as Bonhoeffer enthusiasts have so often celebrated, a beautiful experiment in Christian community. It was also an experiment in a different way of doing ministerial preparation. Bonhoeffer was a product of academia, but he came to believe that academic training needed to be done in intentional and small community. And that community needed to be a community of spiritual formation and active collective discipleship. After Finkenwalde was over, he expected that if he survived and the church survived, he would take part in new experiments in re-imagining and re-creating ministerial preparation. We live in a time that we are seeing the limitations of the seminary model and its tendency to shape clergy as people who are disconnected from the community of faith and unsettled in their spiritual lives. Bonhoeffer should inspire us to look to other models that are community based, collegially based, practice based, and founded upon prayer and worship rather than purely intellectual pursuits.
Something else--Bonhoeffer walked every step of a terribly difficult road seeking step-by-step to know the most faithful way forward. He embraced the lack of clarity of all his choices even as he continued to act. So often, we seek clarity--what side should we be on? What crusade should we take up? What is the right group to join? Who should we resist? How long should I go until I split from people who interpret things differently than me? Bonhoeffer himself was marked by a rare combination of humility and courage. He was burdened by the decision to participate in a plot against Hitler, burdened by what the Confessing Church must do or not do to maintain its integrity, burdened by choices of vocation. He was constantly squeezed by circumstance. And yet, he found his justification not in being right but in Christ's justification. He could move forward boldly and even lovingly. He was a rare person who could love his enemies even as he resisted them. Even the guards who mistreated him in prison, and even, in a certain sense loving an enemy like Hitler. If we are honest, even the most headstrong crusaders among us harbor deep doubts. Maybe those who crusade the most virulently do so to mask our deepest doubts. We must always recognize that we may turn out to be wrong. And so, we must have humility and love in our all actions. But even in humility and love, we must act. In the case of Hitler, Bonhoeffer struggled with the determination that when a madman drives a car down the road and runs over pedestrians, at some point a bystander is called not only to help the victims but stop the car. There are no easy answers here. Bonhoeffer did not pretend otherwise. But he still stepped out.
And something else--Bonhoeffer himself would have been horrified by the way he has been deified since his death. Death was certainly very good for his "brand." If he had survived, his final views of "religionless Christianity" may have been actually harmful to Christian theology. I'm not smart enough to know that for sure, but I think it's a mistake that so many modern people have swept his later views under the rug. Certainly, his death made his life and views interesting to a world who would have never known him if he had grown into an old theology professor or pastor. Who knows if he could have found employment if he had survived and had been condemned as a hypocrite whose participation in an assassination plot was inconsistent with his pacifism? He certainly expected so. but terrible times allowed him to say some of the most beautiful and powerful things we know any Christian ever said. And they allowed him to back them up with faithful actions. We all try to avoid suffering. Bonhoeffer himself did all he could to avoid suffering as he faced it gracefully and bravely.
The next book I read is going to be a novel. No more than 250 pages.
I admittedly tackled the book now because I thought it would provide guidance in the midst of a challenging time in our own country's collective life. Many people are deeply concerned about perceived challenges in the new administration to religious and ethnic minorities, the rule of law, free press, and the relationship between faith and culture. Bonhoeffer has been depicted as a hero, a pastor and theologian who navigated fidelity to the Gospel in challenging times. My hope was that this life and teachings could inform the way forward. Bonhoeffer's story has been helpful for these issues and for many more.
I was struck by how much Bonhoeffer's concern was consistently for the witness of the church as the church rather than using the church for advocacy in the midst of political controversy. Bonhoeffer was consistently opposed to Hitler. But his central concern was not to oppose Hitler, at least initially. His central concern was that the state would not so influence the Church that the Church was not longer be the Church.
The perfect example of this concern was the issue of the Aryan Clause. The Aryan Clause required that German government officials prove their Western European ethnic heritage. German pastors were employed indirectly by the nation because Germany had (and still has) a state church. Confessing Church Christians affirmed that ordination must be sealed off from the power of the state because only the Christian community could determine fitness for ministry. The Church must welcome all people, so it cannot use an ethnic test for ordination. Otherwise, the Church, even if it does religious things, is nothing more than an organ of the state and is no true community of the living Christ.
I find this helpful. Though the Church has a responsibility to advocate for all people, I don't think that the Church faces an existential crisis in the way that the German church did in Bonhoeffer's time. Bonhoeffer never said that a disciple couldn't be a Hitler supporter. He certainly never said that Christians couldn't support the German nation in the war effort--many Confessing pastors and many of his own students served in the war and even volunteered for service. There is a place for people of every political persuasion in Christ's community, even people who are profoundly wrong in all kinds of ways. The line we must draw is in making the church an arm of any political movement, even a good one. The Church must not be coopted into making Christ the servant of an earthly purpose, even a good one, and certainly not a bad one. This is an important line to draw as Christian people are so polarized in our churches. It's the line that the Barmen Declaration draws. I am hopeful that one unexpected benefit for the Church in the midst of our current cynicism about politics is that people who have strong political opinions will recognize that their views are not necessarily God's views and that God will not be brought into our political disputes. It seems to me that most Christians are less likely to claim that their politician or movement is God's person or movement than they were in the Messiah-talk I heard with President Bush or, contrarily, about President Obama. I hope I'm not wrong about this. But it looks to me that though the times are difficult they may actually be good for breaking our habit of equating leaders or political parties with identification with Christianity.
Something completely different--Bonhoeffer's little seminary at Finklewalde was, as Bonhoeffer enthusiasts have so often celebrated, a beautiful experiment in Christian community. It was also an experiment in a different way of doing ministerial preparation. Bonhoeffer was a product of academia, but he came to believe that academic training needed to be done in intentional and small community. And that community needed to be a community of spiritual formation and active collective discipleship. After Finkenwalde was over, he expected that if he survived and the church survived, he would take part in new experiments in re-imagining and re-creating ministerial preparation. We live in a time that we are seeing the limitations of the seminary model and its tendency to shape clergy as people who are disconnected from the community of faith and unsettled in their spiritual lives. Bonhoeffer should inspire us to look to other models that are community based, collegially based, practice based, and founded upon prayer and worship rather than purely intellectual pursuits.
Something else--Bonhoeffer walked every step of a terribly difficult road seeking step-by-step to know the most faithful way forward. He embraced the lack of clarity of all his choices even as he continued to act. So often, we seek clarity--what side should we be on? What crusade should we take up? What is the right group to join? Who should we resist? How long should I go until I split from people who interpret things differently than me? Bonhoeffer himself was marked by a rare combination of humility and courage. He was burdened by the decision to participate in a plot against Hitler, burdened by what the Confessing Church must do or not do to maintain its integrity, burdened by choices of vocation. He was constantly squeezed by circumstance. And yet, he found his justification not in being right but in Christ's justification. He could move forward boldly and even lovingly. He was a rare person who could love his enemies even as he resisted them. Even the guards who mistreated him in prison, and even, in a certain sense loving an enemy like Hitler. If we are honest, even the most headstrong crusaders among us harbor deep doubts. Maybe those who crusade the most virulently do so to mask our deepest doubts. We must always recognize that we may turn out to be wrong. And so, we must have humility and love in our all actions. But even in humility and love, we must act. In the case of Hitler, Bonhoeffer struggled with the determination that when a madman drives a car down the road and runs over pedestrians, at some point a bystander is called not only to help the victims but stop the car. There are no easy answers here. Bonhoeffer did not pretend otherwise. But he still stepped out.
And something else--Bonhoeffer himself would have been horrified by the way he has been deified since his death. Death was certainly very good for his "brand." If he had survived, his final views of "religionless Christianity" may have been actually harmful to Christian theology. I'm not smart enough to know that for sure, but I think it's a mistake that so many modern people have swept his later views under the rug. Certainly, his death made his life and views interesting to a world who would have never known him if he had grown into an old theology professor or pastor. Who knows if he could have found employment if he had survived and had been condemned as a hypocrite whose participation in an assassination plot was inconsistent with his pacifism? He certainly expected so. but terrible times allowed him to say some of the most beautiful and powerful things we know any Christian ever said. And they allowed him to back them up with faithful actions. We all try to avoid suffering. Bonhoeffer himself did all he could to avoid suffering as he faced it gracefully and bravely.
The next book I read is going to be a novel. No more than 250 pages.
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