The General Conference Post That Would Not Come …

I have tried for two weeks to write about the recent General Conference of The United Methodist Church.  I started to write in the weeks leading up to the conference about my hopes and dreams for our church, for our shared ministry, and for our celebration of and praise of a mighty and compassionate God.  I wrote and erased so many posts that I gave up.  My dreams were too big and my wishes too bold.  I dared not write them down.  Every time I did it scared me too much to post them.

In the first week of the General Conference I tried again as I saw amazingly blessed worship and an international church come together in praise of God.  I was stunned by the visioning and hope many delegates came with.  And I relished the stories they told about church growth, vital ministry, and stunning outreach.  It moved my heart and soul.  Then holy conferencing on the issue of sexuality sent many into a tailspin as some GLBT folks were bullied, intimidated and called names during a time when real conversations were supposed to be happening.  And I sat as no words would come.

I tried again after a good friend, Mark Miller, was silenced on the floor of the conference when he tried to speak about the bullying.  He was allowed to speak about some of the pain and the bishop prayed but he was still silenced.  I stood with Mark in the middle of my living room.  My ranting words were good for me to let loose but too much to share with others.  I wept for my church.  And no post came.

But I found myself once again attempting to write after only 56% of my church’s delegates voted that God’s love is available to all persons.  Why only 56%?  Because they thought it was a slippery slope to accepting persons they believe are incompatible with Christian teachings. (“They” will continue to say it is the practice of homosexuality that is incompatible but in truth they are condemning the very being of the GLBT members of our denomination).  That post was deleted as well.

I saw some hope in the legislative committee work over the weekend session and when a promised amendment to be presented on the floor was trying at the very least to get the church to acknowledge we are not all in agreement with the United Methodist stance on homosexuality.  I had some renewed hope and a sense of reserved joy.  That was dashed when some of the delegates instead spoke of bestiality and stoning of GLBT folks in the UMC from the floor.  The petition failed – as it has before.  That post never even made it onto the computer screen.

I tried to write after GLBT advocates entered the bar of the conference to witness to their own and others’ exclusion and to attempt to keep any more harm from happening on the floor of the conference.  But my tears blurred the screen and I could not find the words.

I once again made a valiant effort after the plan to restructure our church and work together for a renewed future for our denomination failed in committee, was resurrected and remade into PlanUMC, was adopted on the floor, and then was ruled unconstitutional by the Judicial Council.  We were back to square one with no plan and little time until the end of the conference.  But Bishop Goodpaster reminded us we still have a structure in the 2008 Book of Discipline and he said it better than I could.

So Sunday morning I got up and went to my UMC/UCC federated congregation in Chestnut Hill, PA.  It is a reconciling, affirming, anti-racist, environmentally active, advocacy-centered congregation that worships like no other church I have ever been part of.  I realized once again that the theology of my church – The United Methodist Church – is one of grace and love.  And it is lived out in this church in amazingly vivid ways.

A feast at my wonderful church.

But I am angry and hurt.  I was born into the UMC – I am a cradle Methodist.  My father is a UM pastor and I have a Methodist pastor in every generation back several generations.  I have an ancestor who was ordained by Francis Asbury.  I have lived and bled Wesleyan theology since birth.  But I am disappointed and angry.  And I am unsure what comes next for my church … and that makes me sadder than I have been in a very long time.

In the meantime I will continue to preach the Gospel of Jesus Christ as passionately as I can.  I will continue to share my faith with others and bring the gospel to those who have not heard it before or who have had a bad experience with the church previously.  I will continue to advocate for full inclusion of all persons.  I will continue to teach my students to love the church – but to love their passion for transforming lives more.  I will continue to prepare candidates for ministry in the UMC by teaching them the history, doctrine and polity of our church.  I will continue to work around the corner and around the world to bring about an end to gun violence, racism, sexism, domestic violence, poverty, homophobia, inequality and other injustices.  I will continue to hope and work for a church that lives the gospel – fully and completely.

And I will continue to pray for my church, for all who are hurt and are impacted by the decisions of the last few weeks at General Conference – on all sides of these issues.  And I ask you to please pray for our church, for all who hurt, and for all who are impacted by these decisions.

Creating a World According to Micah 6:8

When I was growing up – I learned a passage from Micah from my grandfather.  The passage has been important to me ever since then.  This passage is the core of my faith. I recite it often.   I used it as the basis of my final Credo Paper for my Master of Divinity degree at Saint Paul School of Theology.  I have preached on it a number of times and it never ceases to bring me great joy and reminds me of who God calls us to be.

The passage says this, 

He has told you, O mortal, what is good;
   and what does the Lord require of you
but to do justice, and to love kindness,
   and to walk humbly with your God? (NRSV)

There is no small reason why this passage is vital to my faith – it is about justice, love and faithfulness.  Justice is part of me.  I breathe justice.  I work for it.  I pray for it.  I march for it.  I write my political leaders calling for it.  I teach it to my son.  I preach it in my sermons.  I teach it in my classes.  I try to live a just life in all I do.

But justice is sometimes hard to define in our society.  Some want justice only as they see it.  Some want justice for only a select group.  Some see a rush to justice without cause or evidence.  Others see justice denied by inaction.  There are multiple issues related to justice.  And it is hard to make folks see eye to eye on the issues.

But justice is justice for me – it is pretty clear.  Martin Luther King, Jr. said once, “Justice denied anywhere diminishes justice everywhere.”  I believe that.  We have to advocate for justice for all.  Regardless of who they are – their race, attire, gender, faith tradition, sexual orientation, age, size, creed, denomination, physical disabilities, or other element of their being.

I want to be clear – we may disagree on how justice is expressed – but justice must come.  For me it means justice for Trayvon Martin, for Shaima Alawadi, for thousands of named and unnamed persons killed every year by guns, for gays and lesbians struggling with inequality, and for persons kept in poverty by a system that makes it almost impossible to rise out of its depths.  It means advocating for an end of systemic racism, for an end to bullying for any reason, for an end of sexist practices in the church and workplace, and for so many more situations.

It is unjust that I can wear a hoodie anywhere and no one sees me as suspicious.  But it is even more unjust that a person of color is seen that way regardless of what they are wearing.

It is unjust that so many are denied rights afforded others because of their gender or orientation.  It is unjust that people are beaten or killed because of their faith.  It is unjust that many are treated differently because of their physical disabilities or abilities.

So we may disagree on how and when justice is present.  But let’s all agree to this -- to work toward a more just world … a world where no one is mistreated or hurt because they are different from us.

That is justice.

When Will It End?

Today I awoke like everyone else to hear about another school shooting.  This one was in Chardon, Ohio where one student died and four others were shot by a classmate who opened fire in the school cafeteria.  It has been an all too common thread in our society – mass shootings at school, in church, at home, and in the workplace.  Mass shootings taking place to supposedly right some wrong – perceived or real – are happening far too often.

On Tuesday, April 20, 1999, at Columbine High School in Columbine, Colorado, 12 students and one teacher were killed by two of their classmates.  Another 21 students were injured.  Watching the chaos was disturbing and haunting.  Today brought back memories of that day in 1999.

It was a horror to watch then and many talked about ways to combat the violent responses by teens who are outcasts, from broken homes, depressed, bullied, into violent gaming, etc.  Yet here we stand again in the midst of another mass shooting.  We don’t yet know all the details but early reports suggest this young man was angry, bullied, and an outcast.  Whatever his reasons for shooting his fellow classmates – it was not the answer.

The obvious questions will continue to be asked – where did he get the gun?  Was it a legal purchase?  Was it an unsecured gun?  What had happened in his life to bring him to this point?  Where was his family?  What role could teachers and counselors in the school have played in preventing this horror?  What could other students have done to reach out to this young man?  What made him target those particular students?

But there are no easy or fast answers.  

Right now I pray for the family of the student killed, for those who were injured and their families, for the alleged shooter and his family, for those students who escaped injury, for the community of Chardon, for the teachers and staff of the school, for the parents who worried about their children, and for God presence in all of this.

I wish I could snap my fingers and end bullying.  I wish there was not a way these troubled and bullied people could get their hands on firearms.  I wish these situations would become a tragic memory of the past never to occur again.  I wish bullying would never end forever.  I wish violence was not seen as an answer to slights and pain.  I wish all gun violence would end.  I wish for peace in the midst of this chaos and pain. 

Until then – we pray for all of those involved and for our hurting world.  We pray for a faith that sets us free from violence and pain.  We pray.  Lord, in your mercy.

Hate in a Smiley Face Card

I received my first anonymous hate mail today at my school.  It came in a card shaped envelope with my (misspelled) name typed on the front with my school address.  Inside there was a cute smiley face card.  I opened it and found a typed note – it was nasty and vile and attacked me personally.  The language was ugly and it sent me spinning for a bit.  I was not prepared for the reaction I had to it.

I have always taught my seminary students that there will likely never be a day in ministry when someone is not upset with them.  Often these folks let us know when they are frustrated with us either by confronting us in person or calling us to talk.  Sometimes they act out in a committee meeting or other group to let us know their feelings.  But this felt different.

I have been picketed by Fred Phelps’s church, Westboro Baptist, after being interviewed for the Kansas City Star followed General Conference in 2000 when they reaffirmed the language in our Discipline (church law) forbidding gays and lesbians from being ordained.  I stated in the article that I was pained by the decision and hoped we moved toward full inclusion someday.  Westboro picketed my church the next week.  It was nasty and painful, but this felt different.

This time it was anonymous.  In church ministry we often know when folks are upset.  When Westboro picketed me I knew who they were and why they were there.  But this was different – this felt so personal.  It was aimed at me personally.  So it felt personal.

The smiley face threw me off.  The cute and sweet smiley face that has always stood for fun and humor made it feel safe to open. That’s exactly what they expected.  They expected me to open it thinking it was safe.  And they expected it to hurt me, which it did.

And that made me mad.  I was upset about the power of that card to make me feel badly.  I have heard for years that “Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me.”  But that is bunk.  Words do hurt.  And words have power.  We have to choose to use our words for good and to not give too much power to those that aim to hurt us.  I gave those words too much power today, but I also knew I just had to process it some.

This evening I found out several other seminary professors around the country got the same cards today.  So it was not just me – and that helps in some way but also makes me even more determined to NOT let them win.

We have made someone mad – by speaking the truth about our beliefs or about who this person believes us to be.  Whatever the cause I will not be deterred.  I will continue to be who God made me to be.  I will continue to speak the truth and cry out for justice in many different ways.  I will continue to try to counter hate with love.

And no little smiley face card filled with hate will stop me.  So whoever you are … you DON’T win.  Love does.

Yikes … There’s a Teenager in my House

Tomorrow my son, Shelby, will turn 13.  When we brought him home from a small orphanage in Yekaterinburg, Russia 12 years ago, we never could have dreamed of the young man he would and has become – especially since he cried almost the entire way on the airplane from Moscow to Zurich to Atlanta to Kansas City.  We weren’t sure if this was a bad omen or not.  But we were just grateful to be bringing this amazing baby home to America.

Then he was a 9 month old with sparkling blue-grey eyes and curly blonde hair.  He was loved by the caregivers in his orphanage and was tagged as “extraordinarily healthy” by the Embassy Doctor in Moscow.  His passport picture looks like a wise and seasoned person of more years than his 9 months could possibly have experienced.  He was a compassionate toddler who rubbed the TV when he saw someone crying and begged us to stop their pain.  He was an active little guy who climbed anything like a monkey and asked more “Why?” questions than anyone could possibly answer. 

Now he is a mature and compassionate advocate for ending gun violence and watches C-SPAN for enjoyment.  He is a super soccer player and an electronics genius.  He is a great student and a loyal friend.  I have seen him stand up to bullies on his bus route and call racists on their inappropriate jokes.  He is funny, creative, and often silly beyond words.  He can still ask more questions than anyone could possibly answer but now they are sometimes even harder to answer – but not always.

Being 13 is a big thing.  It means being a teenager and making more decisions for himself.  It means his hormones will continue to change and there will be ups and downs in our relationship as he ages – but I am so proud of who he is and who he is going to be.  It means his interests are changing and his relationships with others are more complex.  Having a teenager in the house will be tough at times – but being a Mother is such a blessing.  He is a good kid and that won’t change just because the magic number 13 passes tomorrow.

So tonight I give thanks for his birth mother who chose to give him a better live by giving him up.  I give thanks for the caregivers who cared for him in the orphanage.  I give thanks to the agency reps, interpreters and drivers who helped us through the adoption process.  I give thanks for the members of my family who supported the adoption.  I give thanks to his coaches, teachers, and pastors who helped make him the young man he is today.  I give thanks to the many people who have been part of this journey.

And I thank God for him and for the opportunity to be his mother.  What a blessing.

New Shoes and No Bullying

School starts next week in Philadelphia and my family has made the usually trek to buy school supplies.  We got 14 (yes, 14) composition books, glue sticks, crayons, markers, protractor, pencil box, book covers, folders, and pens/pencils.  We send our son to a school that requires school uniforms so we also bought the required shirts, shorts and gym uniforms.  And we had to buy the required shoes.  Yes – the required shoes.  They are black dress shoes that he will wear with either his short or long pant uniforms.  They are chunky and are not cheap.  All summer my son has worn Crocs or tennis shoes – or nothing at all.  Now he is going to be wearing these heavy dress shoes for school.  (He also has to wear a tie when he wears long pants but that is potentially a whole different post).  The chunky shoes mean something.

Putting on the big boy shoes means school is upon us.  Buying school supplies means the summer is about over.  We are entering into Labor Day Weekend and that means back to school for my son and back to work for me.  So I am mourning a bit, but I am also ready.  This has been a great summer but it is time to get back into a regular routine.  School does that for families.  It puts them back into a routine of waking, working, studying, and homework.  It is usually a time of anxiety for younger kids starting to Kindergarten for the first time, for Middle Schoolers entering into a new school, or High Schoolers heading into a major change of their lives.  It also happens for college students and professors, which is what I am.  So back to school leads many to feel queasy, uneasy, anxious, etc.  It is also a time for new possibilities, connecting to old friends, learning new things, and amazing opportunities.  It is a time to make new friends and a time for new adventures to stretch us.

But it is also a time when some students dread the inevitable painful experiences of being treated as outsiders.  Bullying and teasing kids for being different happens all the time.  It is an unfortunate part of school.  I experienced it growing up.  Many have in their lives.  Some say it is simply a natural part of school.  I disagree completely.  It is something that should not only be discouraged, but should be removed from our school environments completely.

Recently a post started circulating around Facebook.  It said …

See that girl right there?  The one you just called fat?
She's been starving herself, and she's lost over 30 pounds.
The one you just called stupid?  She has a learning disability, she studies 6 hours per night.
The one you just called ugly?  She spends over 3 hours putting makeup on.
The one you just called baby? You would be crying too if your mother was dead.
The one you just tripped?  I think she's abused enough at home.
There's a lot more to a person than you think.  Stop bullying those who are different.

You cannot tell enough by just looking at someone who they are inside, but folks try all the time.  They look at someone and make assumptions about who they are, what their lives are like, how they express their personhood, and what they believe.  And then they use those assumptions to tease, belittle, bully, and abuse those “other” than themselves.  It is time we started a new school tradition – one where we accept each other.  I realize I may be idealistic and unrealistic but I believe we can achieve it.  Talk to your kids about bullying – so they will not participate in it, so they know what to do if it happens in their presence to others, and so they will know who to talk to if they are victims.  But bullying happens outside of school, too.  So talk to them about cyber-bullying and how they can avoid it, report it, and help their friends who might be cyber-bullied.  

One person at a time can make a difference.  You can make a difference … and so can you kids.  Educate them to be kind, to be accepting of others, to not use derogatory words or phrases, and to report bullying to teachers and administrators.  You can make a difference.