Children

A "Thank You God" goes up this night for my 19 year old daughter Cana and 17 year old son Caleb. I thank God for two simple pleasures:

My daughter Cana and I have started watching The Colbert Report at 10:30 pm together in my bedroom (we both have TVs in our bedrooms) We have decided that we enjoy the show more when we can laugh in the same room together. (yes, that Stephen Colbert and his family at Disneyland two summers ago....)

I called my son about an hour ago. He goes to his dad's after supper and spends the night there since his dad graciously gives him a ride to school every day to let me rest a little more. I called Caleb about an hour ago to see how a meeting he had tonight went and if he was able to get the book on Asian Spirituality that he wanted for one his classes. A very quick check in call. But as we were hanging up he said, "I love you Mom" and I told him I loved him. Not a big thing. A simple pleasure, and one he grants me many evenings. But tonight it was especially special for some reason.

I have never loved two human beings more than Cana and Caleb Cox-Johnson, and that love keeps maturing as they mature. There was a time I thought I would not ever be able to have kids and really thought I'd be okay with that, and very well could have been okay. But the water of my life was changed to wine the day Cana arrived, and Caleb, unexpected but longed for as Caleb of old yearned for the promised land, even if we didn't realize it, has made our lives echo with joy and depth I would have never known.

Enough. I am very grateful.

PS I know there are those who may read this who for whatever reasons do not have children and wish they did. I apologize if this is hurtful to you all.

I was just strolling around the Internet, and came across a bunch of great inauguration pics on the Boston Globe website: http://www.boston.com/bigpicture/2009/01/the_inauguration_of_president.html

The one that really struck me was the one above. The caption reads:

40 years after their silent protest at the 1968 Olympics, Gold Medalist Tommie Smith hugs Bronze Medalist John Carlos, and their wives Delois Smith and Charlene Carlos after Barack Obama is officially sworn in as the President of the United States.

The picture I recall from 1968 was not of these men hugging but raising their fists above them:

Here is a news story I found (from infoplease) that reminds us what the two men, having placed first and third in the 200 meter race, meant by the fist raising on the medal stand:

Smith later told the media that he raised his right, black-glove-covered fist in the air to represent black power in America while Carlos' left, black-covered fist represented unity in black America. Together they formed an arch of unity and power. The black scarf around Smith's neck stood for black pride and their black socks (and no shoes) represented black poverty in racist America. While the protest seems relatively tame by today's standards, the actions of Smith and Carlos were met with such outrage that they were suspended from their national team and banned from the Olympic Village, the athletes' home during the games. A lot of people thought that political statements had no place in the supposedly apolitical Olympic Games. Those that opposed the protest cried out that the actions were militant and disgraced Americans. Supporters, on the other hand, were moved by the duo's actions and praised them for their bravery. The protest had lingering effects for both men, the most serious of which were death threats against them and their families.

Smith and Carlos, who both now coach high school track teams, were honored in 1998 to commemorate the 30th anniversary of their protest.

I do remember the outrage that followed this act of protest. BIG outrage. I watched this ceremony live, with my parents I believe, and Clinton and Lucille got right away what John and Tommy were doing and didn't seem to mind it too much. Some folks thought this was an un-American act. I found it (yes, at 14) moving and a profound statement of honesty in the midst of the Olympics, which , wonderful as they are, full of flag waving and pageantry and sunkist smiles, giving the world a very warm feeling inside, leave me feeling like the true state of the nations are put aside for a good show.

I think of the time as a child when I traveled by car with my folks through rural eastern Tennessee and saw desperate poverty not more than a mile away from mansion-like houses, three stories high, expensive cars out front. We like to extenuate the positive and eliminate the negative, but too often we do it simply by shutting our eyes and hearts to the unpleasant results of our own skewed values.

The picture of the men and their wives embracing on Inauguration Day makes me wonder how, forty years from now, we will look at what has gone on this week. Today, as I drove past the big horses fountain (I think some folks call it the JC Nichols fountain!) on the Plaza, I saw as I do every Sunday, a group of folks who held up pro-Palestinian signs, condemning Israel for the recent bombings. What will we think of that issue and that protest 40 years from now? I recently saw a group of Fred Phelps (known throughout the mid west and perhaps elsewhere as a radically judgemental filled anti-homosexual organizer) near one of our community colleges in Kansas City, protesting the speaking engagement of a well-known journalist who is gay but who wasn't speaking on gay rights. I remember two or three years ago in Liberty, watching the cortege of cars on the way to the cemetery to bury a young man who was a soldier killed in Iraq. And just when I thought that cortege was over, I heard a thundering sound of motorcycles, I think I counted two hundred at the end of the cortege. That was at the time that Phelps had stated that his group would be at fallen soldiers' funerals to assert in loud forms of protest their firm belief that God was striking down these young men and women out of retribution over America's unbridled moral decay, and the motorcycle riders showed up to register their own disgust that Phelps' ugly and hurtful words. Will Phelps and his daughter and other followers still show up and protest? Will bikers still rise up in protest against him? Will there still be war?

I think of my daughter who has travelled to Ft. Benning GA, to the School of the Americas, for the past four years with her high school, going now as a chaperon, to protest what she believes to be the training of soldiers to return to their native countries in Central and South America where she believes along with thousands of other protesters, that the soldiers use violent methods they have learned at the School to squelch organization of workers for better conditions, and against those who try to raise the awareness of these workers about the huge economic gap between those who run the factories and themselves. Will these protests have come to an end in forty years? Will we have educated ourselves and changed our buying habits so that we make sure our own apparel purchases don't perpetuate the poverty of those who work in these factories?

People still raise their hands, lift their voices, and take a stand. WhyForty years from now, what will touch the heart of our United Methodist church so deeply that we will mobilize for change in our world? I may not be there to see it, but my hope and prayer is that our church remains the prophetic voice and instigator of change that will be needed over these decades.

I only hope that a few more swords are beaten into plowshares, that a few more folks really conference together instead of yelling at one another, and that there will be many occasions for embracing our like-minded and other-minded brothers and sisters along the way.

The Conversation Matters

It has been one week since I rose from fallowness...we have had quite a discussion going on that day's particular blog entry, and I am very glad about people expressing themselves. I sense it is time to take down that particular entry, but not to shut down the conversation. I think we have gone about as far as we can go over the particular conversation last week in terms of that entry, but not as far as we can go in terms of sharing differing ecclesiological perspectives, continuing to "re-think" church, and pondering together on other important things, like remembering, as Saliers and Knight reminded us several years ago in their book The Conversation Matters: Why United Methodists Should Talk With Each Other. It does and we should. My prayer is that we continue to discover face-to-face ways to talk with other, to share our hearts and minds, and that we dare to be honest with one another in our differences. I wish I could always stay open to others who differ from me, because I know I don't have all the answers. I don't always do that very well. God's preference for his children, as we witness in scripture, experience and tradition, is that we be vulnerable enough to others' ideas that we risk our minds and hearts being changed and that we risk not only respecting one another through that vulnerability, but to admit our imperfection, laugh together and to love each other not despite ourselves, but because of our courage in sharing ourselves, so that we know, for sure, that love is the only thing.

Do-Over!

Cana delighted in calling me tonight on my way to a PPR meeting, and telling me that President Obama had to do a "do over" because of the word-bobbling yesterday. The Chicago Tribune says:

Obama retook the oath before a handful of aides in the White House Map Room—31 hours after he spoke the words before more than a million people arrayed on the Mall. In the first go-around, Chief Justice John Roberts botched the wording, deviating from the language in the Constitution. Following along, Obama repeated the mistake."Out of an abundance of caution," White House Counsel Greg Craig said in a statement, Obama decided to retake the oath Wednesday. Roberts again presided.

Today I also heard of an account of a preacher who left out something in the order of worship (the offering) and the people reminded this preacher at the end of the service. He used his own forgetfulness as an example of what he had just said in the sermon about God calling us, despite our imperfections, to discipleship, but accidentally used the "s---" word to describe what he had done. The congregation simply laughed, he was mortified.

I sure would like to have the chance to do a do-over on some things I have mis-said from the pulpit and in the superintendency work....I will not confess to all, but one time while I was in Canton, talking about how we have such a hard time breaking ourselves of hurtful habits in relationships I said that much as we try we "screw up, and we screw up, and we screw up." I even had it written down in my full manuscript. 'Twas a liberal congregation there at Canton, but one leader took me aside after the service and said, "Uh, Susan...you might try using some other word than that next time..." Good grief, I sure would have liked to have had a second-chance on that one. Or when I prayed with a pastor recently, I called him in the prayer by the former pastor's name .

I am trying to figure out, besides a good old fashion apology, how you rectify these situations. Most of us don't get a second chance. Over the years, you sort of get a little more suave about covering the mistakes, but I still get mortified when I realize what I've done. I guess what having done something like this mostly does for, is it helps me be more forgiving when someone utters a faux pas that I could take as a hurt, but instead, knowing how imperfect I am, I laugh and say with Roseanne Roseannadanna "never mind." Most congregations, I have found, have grown very adept at that phrase...thank God!

He didn't use a preface???

A short one. The facts have been changed to protect the innocent, by the way. This evening I was in one of the district churches. They expressed their preference for style of worship in the critique of a former pastor. "He didn't even use the lectionary...we wanted him to use all three scriptures and the Psalm!" "He didn't have the offering after the sermon!" "He didn't use any liturgy before serving communion and never 'added words' in the brief order" (p. 12 UMH) yes, they did say "brief order"--I think they meant a preface (if I am using the word right)--not sure that I know many pastors who do (I have been known to do so a time or two)'Course I thought this all very interesting...

Just goes to show you that there are different strokes for different folks I guess. 'Tis an interesting life.

A Gift from God at North Street UMC

This week, I know most of us are just overwhelmed by the coming inauguration and what it means for us as a country. I am always overwhelmed at the poignancy of Martin Luther King Jr Day, heartfelt gratitude for his life, and so deeply hurt over his early death. He should have been standing with Senator Obama this afternoon, in front of the Lincoln Memorial, listening to the magnificent music and the beauty of it all.

This past week and today, I am also overwhelmed by something else going on. North Street UMC in Marshall MO, an historically African American church in my district, is a congregation that has been in existence for 139 years organizing in 1871. I think it may have organized in Pennytown, out from Marshall, a former slave settlement that was a vital black community for many years. I need to find out more about that. The building in which they have worshiped and "done church" for about 100 years (I will find out the exact age soon) sits about 6 blocks from First UMC in Marshall. About 20 to 25 folks worship there regularly. They are yoked with Elmwood, a small rural church, and are currently served by Rev. Gene Page. He actually retired from there at annual conference, but after a pretty severe mis-match of a lay preacher there, he came out of retirement to serve until this next annual conference, but I think we may be able to hold him another year. You know why? No??? Well, I will tell you.

The North Street church (see the building above) is on a site which is bordered in back and to the east by ConAgra corporation. You can see in back of the building a bit of the ConAgra buildings. They make, at this plant, lower end, easy to fix foods (Banquet, etc) which are selling very well in this economy and were selling well before and the company thinks will continue. The long and the short of it is that ConAgra would like to buy the North Street church and the small parsonage next door. In return they would purchase land for and build a new church building for the congregation, land chosen by the church, building built to the church's specifications. Last Monday, I met with Rev. Page, three members of the church, and two ConAgra managers and it was then this offer was raised. Nothing is written or signed yet, but we were led to believe that this will really happen. Today I was back in Marshall for worship at First Marshall (oh, by the way, their pastor is retiring--announced last week) and then went over to North Street for lunch and a meeting to begin to get our heads around, as they say, this overwhelming blessing. I love the North Street folks---I have gotten to know many because of the pastoral changes we have had to make, and now because of this.

I've been thinking a lot about dreams today--the seemingly dream/fantasy that we would have a black man for president in my lifetime; the dream of Dr. King as he stood on the Mall in Washington DC, recorded this afternoon, and the dreams that God is giving and will continue to give North Street in order to be able to use this gift to build up the kingdom, to care for the marginalized, and to be a place where all can glorify God. As I drove the short blocks from First Church to North Street, I felt the rush, that breath, that sense for a moment that I was living in a kairos time---that the movement of the spirit, that wind is lifting us from our comfortable places and is taking us on a sometimes scary, sometimes bumpy, always faith-maturing ride to that new place which we cannot imagine yet, and if we tried, we probably would get it wrong. That is what I feel right now about North Street. The wind is blowing us where it wilt, though we are called to pray and discern the preferred future that God has for us. And I believe that the ever flowing stream of justice is calling us to go even further into its waters and to be carried by its flow to a place where we of North Street can enable the kingdom values; and that same river is bearing us to a deepening relationship with our Lord, so that all may know us because of our love for Jesus, our love for each other, and for those who have not heard and do not yet know.

Whew. This is probably enough. But you see why I believe that God still gives us dreams, and that I am so very blessed to be able to walk alongside a congregation that is a recipient of such marvelous grace.

Fallow

Friends:

I have decided to let this blog go fallow for a time. I sense this is the right thing to do---I still have lots of ideas, but I am finding I simply don't get around to writing them out. Don't worry about me---I'm just giving it a rest for a few months. For those interested, I am attempting a new blog entitled "Confessions of a Lectionary Preacher" on which I will simply give some ideas for each Sunday and some general lectionary help probably on the Sunday or Monday before. I'll try this until Lent begins and then re-evaluate. I have been wanting to do this for a couple of years and think this would be a good spiritual reflection time for me and will ground me in the same scriptural preaching as most of my pastors each week. Most of the time these will be ideas I have used in the past revisited and revamped for 2009, sometimes sermon ideas, sometimes liturgy ideas, sometimes visuals. There will not be any formality about it. I am starting with Baptism of the Lord this Sunday. Expect that to be up by Wednesday evening. The new blog URL: http://www.confessionsofalectionarypreacher.blogspot.com/

One of the reasons I am doing this is that although the trend in many circles is to get away from the lectionary because of relevance issues, or because it seems rote or stale, most of my preachers are using it and using it well but could stand a few ideas to help them out. I am a lectionary preacher and most who have heard me preach I think, would say that while the preaching does not often reach the "sterling" adjective, it was often interesting, and certainly the liturgy, visuals and music worked on their souls and allowed them to sense the presence of God and glorify him. So, I guess I want to share some of that. Additionally I am hoping to have a learning day in September entitled "'Lectionary' is Not A Bad Word" focusing on creative and relevant ways to live out the Christian year in worship.

Blessings on you one and all!