Holy Conferencing

There is something unique to those of us Christians of the Methodist persuasion and that is the notion of "holy conferencing." Beyond the notion of mere Christian fellowship, and more specific than the Biblical concept of koinonia, holy conferencing is the coming together of God's people to make important decisions for the good of God's people, with the expectation that we are visited by the Spirit of God in the midst of these decisions.

I just came home after just such a holy conference at a place called Lake Junaluska, a serene and beautiful place in the mountains of North Carolina. The setting is tranquil, with a placid lake providing a backdrop for our deliberations. The accommodations are basic, and our meeting place, Stuart Auditorium, is historic and uncomfortably warm by mid-afternoon. But oblivious to the heat and humidity, we did our duty, meeting long into the night, breaking for meals and for necessities.

My wife and I like to joke about the nature of church conferences. In contrast to my brother-in-law's medical conferences, where he attends a seminar for a few hours, and then goes skiing the rest of the day (winter time in Aspen), my typical church conferences are jam-packed with scheduled meetings. In true Wesleyan fashion, we waste no time in frivolity. However, after my clothes have become damp from my own perspiration, and we have wrangled over the conference budget one line item at a time for several hours, it sometimes becomes difficult to discern the "holy" part of "conferencing."

I admire the patience of our bishop as he oversees the proceedings, giving equal time to both sides of every question, making sure everybody has their say. Hmmm, there IS something holy about that, isn't there? I am amazed at the tolerance shown by the assembled delegates to those whose questions and comments display a clear naivete or elementary grasp of the issues. Such tolerance is a testimony to the presence of grace, and another sign of holiness. Then, of course, there are the many opportunities for worship - songs with Native American roots, music by a Christian rock band, traditional organ and/or piano accompanied hymns that touch the heart, and there we all are, appreciating the various ways people experience God, who comes to us in diverse ways.

So, even in the tedium of meeting there is a holiness to our assembly. The Spirit of God is present. We learn greater respect for each other in our differences, discerning the presence of God in new guises. In honoring each other, showing patience, demonstrating mercy, we are experiencing the "holy" in our "conference."

I come home tired after every yearly conference, but oddly satisfied. Maybe even happy that I am a part of a people who can sweat it out together without losing patience with each other. Makes me glad to be a part of a Christian people.

Pelicans

This photo from a kayak trip I took with my daughter on Oak Island last year captures a resting pelican in the boat in the background. Pelicans are fascinating birds and amazingly graceful in spite of their rather "ugly duckling" looks.

A curious image from early church art is that of a pelican with blood dripping from its breast on its chicks gathered around her. The art is based on a common myth, current in the early centuries A.D., that a mother pelican, when food could not be found, would pierce its own breast so that its blood would provide sustenance for its young. Turns out that pelicans don't actually do this. However, the belief that they did made selection of this image a fitting subject for Christian art - the sacrifice of the pelican as an analogy to Christ's sacrifice for humankind.

I had pelicans on my mind today after viewing the recent photos of pelicans flailing in oil sludge washing up on the Louisiana coast. Surely you have seen the pictures by now. They are enough to make one weep. I don't think this is what God had in mind when humankind was given dominion over creation. Matthew Scully, in his book Dominion, makes the case that at the very least, animals should be treated with mercy. His argument is a jab at the industrial food complex, but the basic theology certainly applies to the current ecological nightmare on the Gulf. There will unfortunately be no mercy for God's creatures, and we will all suffer for it.

Sacrifice - the word is used these days only to apply to those who join the military and fight our country's battles. In the everyday world of business as usual the word sacrifice rarely comes into play, unless it is a call for workers to make sacrifices for company profits. Aah, sorry, I just crossed the line and got on my soapbox didn't I? Still, we could use a little more sacrifice like that of the early church's pelican, like that of Jesus, the One we Christians supposedly follow, so that all God's creatures might flourish. If we could just learn to settle for enough, as the old saying goes, "enough is as good as a feast." I'm sure the pelicans would thank us if they could.

The People of God at Their Best

I just got back from a week in Mississippi with a team of folks from town who were rebuilding houses five years after Katrina demolished communities on the Gulf Coast. There were thirty-three of us from the five Methodist churches in town (plus two token Baptists whom we elected as honorary Methodists for the week). We worked on four different houses in various stages of completion. We worked hard, ate well, had great fun. Oh, did I mention that we paid our own way down there?

If you're reading this and are not connected to the church you may wonder: "Is there still Katrina damage in Mississippi?" Indeed there is, and except for a few Lutherans, the Methodist Church is the only denomination with a significant presence still working on recovery. In fact, the United Methodist Church is the third largest builder of homes in Mississippi over the last few years.

Another question: "Why would anyone pay their own way to go and work for free to provide homes for people in Mississippi?" The short answer is this - It's the kind of thing Jesus would do. In 2 Corinthians, chapter 8, the apostle Paul says something about Jesus becoming poor so that by his poverty we might become rich. There are few of his followers who are willing to do the same for others, but at the very least we are often willing to share out of our abundance to lift people out of desperate situations. And when we do we are being the kind of people Jesus wants us to be, the church at its best. We offer generosity to others because we recognize the graciousness of God toward us. We offer generosity out of our best intentions. But more often than not, what we receive is worth more than what we have given. We receive satisfaction. We receive the gratitude of others. We receive blessings for which there is no way to attach monetary value. We give out of our abundance, but we end up receiving more than we give. That's one of those mysterious equations that followers of Jesus can never quite solve, but which almost everyone of us has experienced.

Anyway, there's an estimated two years worth of work still to be done in Mississippi. We'll be sending a team next year. I suspect there will be more people going next time. Sharing love tends to be contagious. If you'd like to join the people of God at their best, you are welcome to come with us. . . God's Peace!

What the Bible Says About Immigration

We are eager to claim Biblical support for whatever opinion we already hold on various issues facing society and culture. This is certainly true regarding the issue of immigration. Or, we might ignore scripture altogether in favor of our own bias rather than considering seriously the guidance God provides for those who seek to live in a holy community. The following brief but excellent article from the Washington Post provides a balanced treatment of the Biblical narrative in regard to how a community is to treat the "stranger" among them. Perhaps a Biblical approach might bridge the gap between conservatives and liberals on this issue.

http://newsweek.washingtonpost.com/onfaith/brad_hirschfield/2010/05/welcoming_bibles_stranger_may.html?hpid=talkbox1

{You may have to cut and paste the above link.}

Festival of Homiletics

Wow! I'm in Nashville. Walking down Broadway there are country music bars with live music at lunch time, neon guitars advertising happy hour, multiple stores for getting your cowboy hats, boots and authentic western wear at discount prices (Three pairs of boots for the price of one!), and fiddlers on the sidewalk, hoping for donations in their open fiddle cases.

What am I doing here? Attending the annual Festival of Homiletics. What is (or are) homiletics? Some strange cult? Some sort of 12-step support group? I'm sure the city of Nashville is wondering about the sign hanging outside the entrance to First Baptist Church. Well, "homiletics" is the art of preaching. And here we are, some 800 preachers gathered, not to preach but to hear others preach, to learn more about the art of preaching, to be inspired, to celebrate the gift we have been given, the privilege we have been awarded, to preach week-in and week-out. As Nashville singer-songwriter, Ashley Cleveland, belted out her opening spiritual, "I was born to preach the gospel," we joined in giving thanks to God for the joy of preaching.

Of course, some of our lecturers have pointed out what we all know, there is a burden to preaching as well. The act of preaching is both bane and blessing. There is the weekly necessity of coming up with a word for Sunday which, in the midst of pastoral emergencies and the pragmatic needs of daily church life, does not always feel like a Word from God. But, every now and then, there is an "aha" moment, when the text of scripture calls forth a sermon that almost preaches itself (Lauren Winner likens it to the rush of heroin addiction - perhaps too dangerous an analogy!). That "aha" moment is a gift from God which keeps preachers like me coming back to the scripture week after week expecting the same thing to happen (perhaps a healthy and holy addiction).

I have often said that as a preacher what I need most to nurture my spiritual life is to hear other preachers. So, this week I am feasting my ears on the best preaching the church of Jesus Christ has to offer, in the company of others who have been called to this peculiar vocation.

In my first church, in the mountains of North Carolina, more often than not, when people addressed me, they called me "preacher," not "reverend," not "pastor." Ever since then I more often am addressed as pastor, and only in formal introductions as reverend. I miss "preacher." Because that is who God called me to be, a caretaker of the Word. A proclaimer of the evangel. A prophet against the powers and principalities. The world laughs at preachers - irrelevant, outdated, insignificant. But God promises that when the Word is spoken faithfully, it will not return empty. So, bouyed up by my colleagues in this homiletical art, and encouraged by my congregation, I prepare each week to do this strange (in the eyes of the world) task. But then, I can't help but do it. Like Ashley Cleveland sang, "I was born to preach the gospel, and I sure do like my job!"

Joy

Our family will be celebrating this weekend. My son, Wilson, will be marrying Carol, a member of our congregation, whom he has dated for almost seven years. The wedding will be an occasion of joy, to be sure. I am looking forward to it and, while I am not expecting water to be turned to wine at this wedding, I do expect Jesus to show up and join us in our celebration.

I have the need for a joyful weekend. There has been so much tragedy lately, not only in the world news, but also in and among our congregation. I have been doubly aware of the burdens some people carry, and perhaps I have been unknowingly trying to carry some of those burdens myself. It is a common mistake - out of some sense of empathy to wish to carry someone's burden, to lighten their load. Oh, I know, someone will quote Paul, "bear one another's burdens." However, none of us is capable of carrying another's burden, at least, not by ourselves. Why, we can barely carry our own! At most, what we can do is be present with someone else. Never underestimate the power of presence. Being there. Showing up. Presence is a powerful ministry.

Jesus says, "Take my yoke upon you, for my yoke is easy and my burden is light." Notice, Jesus does not say, "I am going to remove your burdens." No. What Jesus says is he will give you a burden, but it is a burden you can bear more easily than the burdens the world places on us. What I have always suspected is that Jesus is picturing a double yoke, in which we are paired with Jesus himself. He takes our load upon himself. He takes the pain and agony of our sorrows. He takes the disappointment of our regrets. He takes our missed opportunities, our tragic grief, and anything else that weighs us down and then he does the pulling. He takes the full load, including our sin, if we will let him. That is a big "if." How often we fail to trust Jesus' capability to bear the load, so we begin to pull and pull, and the burden becomes heavy on us again. We are pulling against the one who seeks to "bear all our sorrows." We are pulling against the one who "would heal all our diseases." We are pulling against the one whom Isaiah said came to carry "all our iniquities."

"Take my yoke upon you," he says. He wants us to find rest. He wants us to claim joy. And there is joy to be found. Even in the midst of the disasters, crises and traumas of life, we are often surprised by joy. A friend has posted on his office door, "Never let anyone rob you of the joy of your salvation." That's good advice. In seasons of sorrow, we need reminding of the joy - the joy of marital love; the pleasure of watching your children mature and claim their own gifts and joys; the good times shared by family and friends; the weekly gathering of God's people, happily reconnecting during a sabbath rest; the joy of our salvation. There is joy possible in every life. There is joy built into every week. There is rest for our weary souls. At least that's the way God planned it. Release your burdens. Let Christ Jesus bear your load.

Meanwhile, I'm putting on my "wedding garment" and getting ready for our big day. Hmm, maybe a wedding is our best preparation for the Big Day God has planned for all of us, when all our sorrows will be no more and Christ will claim his bride - the Church. That Big Day reminds us that joy is what God has planned for us, so we need to start rehearsing for it now, don't you think? Find a reason for joy today. Be grateful. Count your blessings. Remember that joy is what God has in store for us all.

Counting the Cost

I hesitate to write this but I have an itch and need to scratch it. The recent tragedy in the Gulf of Mexico, leading to the loss of life on an oil rig, and the unfolding ecological nightmare, serves as an object lesson on competing "costs" in the decisions we make.

A few years ago as gas prices rocketed upwards, the cry rang out for more off-shore exploration. "Drill now," was the mantra of those who urged for energy independence. After all, oil is the life-blood of the modern economy. Those who urged caution were castigated as naive idealists, unwilling to face the economic and political realities of a changing world.

Now, in the wake of this spreading disaster, likely to take a toll on a Gulf Coast that is still vulnerable after Hurricane Katrina's effects, the voices that cried out for drilling now sound shrill and their vision short-sighted. The economic and political realities of this oil spill are likely to be catastrophic for people, fish and fowl for some time to come.

In counting the cost of decisions we make, we rarely take into account the unforeseen. We often ignore the unintended consequences of our actions. While no one can account for every disaster or catastrophe, the failure of supposedly "fail-safe" safety measures to work demonstrates either a lack of preparedness, or plain human arrogance. We hope for the best and rarely plan for the worst. We do not count the cost.

Jesus said something about "counting the cost," of discipleship. In Luke 14:28-30, Jesus suggests that a man who begins to build a tower but doesn't prepare for the cost of finishing it will appear a fool to observers. We might wonder if the petroleum company which is responsible for the oil rig in question has adequately prepared for the possibility of disaster. But the cost, in this case, is greater than the billions of dollars it will take to clean up the mess. There is the collateral cost of lost livlihoods, damage to the ecosystem, and lost tourism - costs not likely to be borne by the petroleum company in question. The costs of "something going wrong," you see, have not been factored in, in the interests of immediate satisfaction and immediate financial gain. And at the risk of sounding cynical, well-paid lobbyists will probably influence politicians to keep it that way.

There is a cost to all the choices we make. We choose to make a quick buck, perhaps, ignorant of unintended consequences to others. Or, maybe we just don't care. There's plenty of that attitude in the world.

But Jesus calls us to care. Jesus calls us to count the cost. Jesus calls us to take into account how our actions have consequences for good, or ill. Good intentions, perhaps, are not enough. Perhaps we need to look ahead and see if we have enough to finish the tower before we begin. Perhaps we need to look ahead and see that in following Jesus, there may be a cross on a hill for us as well. And what a difference that cost is, compared to the lesson of the oil spill.

In counting the cost of following Jesus, it is the followers of Jesus who bear the cost on behalf of others, rather than expecting someone else to pick up the tab. You see, we follow the example of Jesus whose life-blood was spilled for the sake of a broken world, where failure to count the cost is seen as good business. Followers of Jesus are not in this life for the short-term gain, but for the long-haul, indeed, for eternity. We are not here to take what we can get while we can get it, and then make a heavenly exit in the nick of time. No, we are here expecting a new heaven and a new earth, and a new Jerusalem where God will dwell with us on this good creation (Revelation 21:1-6). What we do to this creation matters in the overall scheme of things. It is important to count the cost, the whole cost, for our generation and for generations to come.