Reflections on Charleston...

I just returned from a prayer vigil at Baber AME Church on Meigs St. where a couple hundred of us gathered together, Black and White, to mourn the loss of nine sisters and brothers in Christ at Mother Emanuel AME Church in Charleston.  We were told by their pastor that no liturgy was planned; that we just needed to come together in prayer and let the Spirit lead us; and lead us she did.

We heard the call of the prophet to let justice roll down like a mighty stream; we heard the words of Paul reminding us that Christ breaks down all barriers; and that if we don’t have love, we have nothing.  We heard a story of Jesus calming storms with a word; and we joined our voices in prayer and in song proclaiming God’s unstoppable and mighty acts of love.  To say that it was a powerful experience to worship with my Black sisters and brothers in Christ is an understatement.  

And yet in the midst of that kairos-time, the “elephant” of racism was still in the room.  Despite the feeling of being in solidarity with my Black sisters and brothers by hugs shared and hands held, the fact remains that I am not.  I am not in solidarity because I am a White, Anglo-Saxon male with all the racist privileges that come with it.  Unlike the young Black man helping lead us in worship, I can go into any department store assured that I will not be followed by security for fear that I might steal something.  I can walk down Main St. in Rochester and will probably never see women clutching their pocketbooks or crossing to the other side of the street fearing for their safety when they see me coming.  I can be assured that a routine traffic stop by police will not result in my being shot to death by those whose job it is to protect me.

Unlike Pastor Simmons at Baber AME Church, I don’t have to worry about copycat killers coming into my church to kill because of my skin color.  I don’t have to wonder if I’ll come home alive tonight because of a Bible Study I’m leading.  And unlike my Black siblings in Christ who live in South Carolina, I don’t have to drive down streets named after Confederate generals who fought a war to keep me enslaved.  I don’t have to wonder why a Confederate flag , a symbol of racial oppression, flies over the very building in which lawmakers are entrusted with every citizen’s well-being; and even then why that flag continues to fly at full mast in the midst of the Charleston massacre.  I don’t have to listen to the viral hatred spewed by those who claim to be “losing their country” to people like me. 

So, though I may stand with my Black brothers and sisters in the struggle against racism, I must also acknowledge that I will never be able to know what it’s like to walk in their oppressed shoes.  I must come to grips with and confess my own comfort with White privilege.  I must confess my own tendencies to stereotype and categorize those who seem different from me.  I must confess my default mode of doing nothing to curb racism by convincing myself that everything is okay.   Only when I have repented of these sins can I come clean and truly stand beside my sisters and brothers who are oppressed.

I will continue to pray ceaselessly for the friends and family of those who were brutally slaughtered just because they showed up for prayer and Bible Study, offering hospitality to the stranger.  I’ll pray for peace and justice in our land; I’ll pray for healing and reconciliation among races; I’ll keep God’s prophetic mandate of doing justice, loving kindness, and walking with God before me as I strive for systemic justice and equality.  I will repent of my own racist tendencies as I continue to follow the One who himself died an innocent victim of brutal violence.  And I will give thanks to God that because violence didn’t ultimately have the last word in Jesus’ life it won’t have the final word in ours.

And may we all be reminded of the gospel proclamation found in the very name of the church in which this unimaginable violence took place:  Emanuel.  “God with us”. 

Peace and Love,

Pastor Doug

The Jesus Revolution

A friend of mine recently posted the following dialogue she had with her young son about a really cool word; “Revolution”.   She defined the word for him as “a big change that happens all kinds of wild and crazy”.  To which he asked, “Is ‘revolution’ a church word?”   What a great question!  Mom and Dad, you’re doing things right!

“Well … I guess it can be” she responded. 

“But IS it?” he asked emphatically. 

 

“I suppose when Jesus caused pretty big changes he was kind of revolutionary.  He changed the way a lot of people thought”.

“When did he change things?”

“Along time ago when he came”.

“Is he changing things now?  Is it a revolution?”

“…um…”

“Mo-om!  Is he changing things NOW?”

Bingo!!  From the mouth of a child comes the million dollar question facing the church today.  Is Jesus changing things now?  Sadly, I think the church has forgotten all about Jesus or we’ve never really known who he is and so we’ve come to expect that the answer is ‘no’.  We’ve failed to see Jesus out in the world.  We in the church have toned Jesus down.  We’ve tamed him.  We’ve made him presentable to the world by dressing him up in glitzy programs and reducing his words to mushy sentiments found in Hallmark greeting cards.  If I ever find these words of Jesus in a greeting card I will gladly eat my hat:

“When you do it to the least of these, you do it to me”.

“Love your enemy, forgive those who persecute you”.

“Blessed are the poor, for theirs is the kingdom of God”.

“If any would be my disciples, let them deny themselves, take up their cross and follow me”.

“Do not worship power and status and prestige; instead, learn to be a servant”.

Tragically, we live in a culture that has hijacked the name of God and invokes Jesus’ name in justifying everything from state sanctioned killing and war to tax cuts for the wealthy.   We’ve used Jesus to exclude those who don’t look like us; think like us; or believe like us.  And even if our mainline churches are not actively excluding, we are certainly culpable when our voices remain silent as Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, and Transgender people find only bigotry at the hands of the religious.

How did Jesus stop being a threat to the status quo?  When did the church finally decide that Jesus doesn’t need to change things?  When did we determine that it’s okay to reduce Jesus’ words to a bunch of innocuous moralisms?  I’m no rocket scientist and there are theologians who can argue circles around me on just about any topic, but it seems to me that a long time ago, when Jesus walked the earth, he was a threat to everyone because he changed things.  The religious folks hated him because he ate with people who never washed their hands; who never observed the cleanliness and holiness codes of the day and who had no use for dehumanizing religious laws.  The Romans were threatened by him because folks were ascribing titles to Jesus reserved only for Caesar.  “Son of God”, “Messiah” all the while singing songs about Jesus casting down the mighty and lifting up the lowly.  Even his own family got pissed at Jesus when he expanded the definition of family to include “anyone who does the will of God” (Mark 3:35)

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Jesus was revolutionary because instead of talking about love, he embodied it.  He was revolutionary  because he envisioned a radical community in which the wealthy shared all they had with the impoverished.  Jesus was revolutionary because he labored for a kingdom where all were provided for and all were treated with dignity.

So, back to this young child’s question.  Is Jesus changing things now?  Yes!  Anywhere you see love being poured out for another, Jesus is changing things now.  Any time you see the hungry being fed and the naked being clothed, Jesus is changing things now.  The only question remaining is this:  Will the church join Jesus already at work in the world?  The very life of the church may depend on that answer.

Lovin’ the “wild and crazy”,

Pastor Doug

I'm just the gardener: A reflection on ministry

I may be a pastor, but in the big picture, I’m just the gardener.   It’s taken me 21 years of ordained ministry to figure that little piece of wisdom out.  Like the sower in Jesus’ parable, I have scattered all kinds of seed over all kinds of ground.  In 21 years, I’ve served 3 congregations in 2 different states.  I’ve preached and taught; I’ve visited the sick; I’ve comforted the dying; I’ve visited the imprisoned; I’ve fed the hungry; I’ve clothed the naked – well not literally the naked.  (There are boundaries after all.)    In 21 years, I’ve rejoiced and wept with more people than I can possibly remember; I’ve been encouraged by some and had my heart broken by others.  In 21 years I’ve made brilliant decisions along with a whole bunch of “bone-headed” ones.   I’ve been an instrument of healing and have without a doubt hurt a few folks along the way as well.

In 21 years of ordained ministry, I’d like to think that most of the seeds leaving my hands have taken root and are ushering in the kingdom of God in abundance; But probably not.  I’ve never served a church where there was a waiting line to get in the building on a Sunday morning.  Nor have I ever experienced the need to provide shuttle service from satellite parking lots in order to accommodate huge church crowds.  Instead I look out over more empty pews than I’d like.  I look at old church pictorial directories and am haunted by the sizable crowds that once filled our building.  I hear stories of packed Sunday School classrooms and the need for extra chairs during Christmas and Easter worship services.  In all of this I wonder, what I’ve done wrong.

 

Maybe I should have been more careful in where I dropped the seeds.  Maybe I should have studied the chemical make-up of the soil more so that I would know where seeds do well and where they do not.  There must be a way for me to replicate growth mechanisms in seeds so that I can produce my own growth on demand.  To see the mountains of brochures that come across my desk, you’d think that would be an easy task.  Here are just a few of the “do-it-yourself” items I’ve seen over the past year that have at times added to my sense of pastoral guilt:

“How to grow a church in 3 easy steps”

“4 reasons why your church is not growing”

“5 most important church growth principles”

“6 essentials for church growth”

“7 keys to church growth”

“8 characteristics of growing churches”

“10 enemies of church growth”

“Pastors…grow your church in 10 minutes for free”   (my personal favorite)

             But as I pray about the gospel reading coming up on Sunday, Jesus seems to tell a different story.  According to Jesus, the one who casts the seeds is not the one who grows them.  (Sorry church growth experts).  In fact the seed spreader “would sleep and rise night and day, and the seed would sprout and grow, he does not know how.  The earth produces of itself” (Mark 4:27-8a).   Or as the Greek literally says, “Of its own accord the earth bears fruit”.  In other words, the sower cannot make the seed bear fruit.  It is entirely out of the gardener’s hands.

             It’s a good thing, because in 21 years of doing this ministry stuff, I’ve learned there are at least 2 things I cannot do.  I cannot create faith, nor can I attract large crowds on Sunday mornings.  And yet despite these deficits and inabilities, I see the gospel taking seed in the hearts of more and more folks as our education and outreach ministries expand.   I see seeds of faith being nurtured in our young people as they become increasingly involved in all aspects of church leadership and advocacy, while at the same time discovering the freedom to wrestle with real life questions of faith and doubt.  I see the gospel alive and well in our monthly Dinner Church gatherings as well as our emerging Pub Theology nights.  I see seeds bearing fruit in abundance as we feed the hungry and house the homeless month after month.  And all of this is God’s doing, not mine.

           God has made the seed and gives the seed the ability to bear fruit.  Not me.  I’m just the gardener; the one who is called to care and nurture the seeds.  I can do that!  And I am more than happy to let God do the rest.  It's only taken me 21 years to figure this out.

            In thankfulness for being on this journey with you in love and patience,

Pastor Doug

Crazy Jesus!

“He has gone out of his mind” (Mark 3:21).

How many times have you heard that said about Jesus?  Not exactly the most flattering of confessions.  I’m just trying to imagine what it would look like if on Sunday mornings we added that description to Jesus. 

“We gather in the name of the Father, and of the Son (who’s out of his freakin’ mind) and the Holy Spirit.”

“The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ (who’s gone loco on us)….”

“The Peace of Christ (who flew over the cuckoo’s nest)…”

“Lamb of God (who’s finally lost it)… you take away the sin of the world…”

The thing is; Jesus hasn’t gone out of his mind.  He’s doing the work of the Kingdom over and against the institutions of the day. 

Watch out Caesar, Jesus is taking you on from the very first verse of Mark’s gospel.  “The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God.”  It’s common knowledge in Jesus’ day that Caesar is not only the messiah-like “son of god”, but that only Caesar can be the bearer of “good news”.  Not so, that’s Jesus!

Oh and you, the religious establishment?  Yeah, Jesus is taking you on too.  Healing those who are ritually unclean?  Strike one!  Healing on the Sabbath?  Strike two!  Healing the unclean, on the Sabbath in the synagogue?  Strike three!

Oh yeah and family values?  Jesus is duking it out with you too.  Apparently blood is not thicker than water.  In the face of Jesus’ mother and siblings trying to reign him in, Jesus re-defines family right before their eyes.  “Here are my mother and my brothers!  Whoever does the will of God is my brother and sister and mother” (Mark 3:35).  

In a world of rules, safety nets, and barriers, Jesus is clearly breaking them down and re-defining everything. So why then does the church, who claims to follow Jesus, so often live comfortably behind walls buying into the status quo? Why does the church remain silent in the face of racism?  Where are we, followers of an abundant God, in the midst of overwhelming poverty and violence? Where are we, disciples of the Prince of Peace, when wars are waged and bombs are dropped?

If yesterday’s gospel reading shows us nothing else, it reveals that Jesus was not into institutional preservation.  So why then are we?  I’m not saying the church as an institution doesn’t do good.  In the context of history, the church in North America has played a pivotal role in the abolition of slavery and in the enactment of civil rights.   But the church cannot be the object of our ministry.  The gifts in our offering plates cannot just be about turning on the lights or paying your pastors.  They must be about ushering in the Kingdom of God.  After all, this is what Jesus’ ministry is all about; ushering in a kingdom of justice and peace; a kingdom of mercy and risk taking.  But be careful when you do this Kingdom of God stuff, because according to Mark’s gospel, it doesn’t attract many followers.  In fact, it actually turns people off.  Throughout Mark’s gospel, folks can’t get away from Jesus fast enough, until finally at the end, Jesus is left alone on the cross screaming out in forsakenness to God.  Now, there’s an evangelism program for you.

Maybe our numbers, as well as those of other churches are down, because we’ve been focused on self-preservation when the world around us has no interest in such things.   Well the gig is up.  Folks in our neighborhood don’t care whether or not we have money to turn on the lights or the AC; they don’t care about endowment fund balances or drainage issues.  But what they are looking for is an authentic community; a beloved community in which they can help make the world a better place; a place of justice and peace.  A place where all are included; where no one leaves the table hungry, and all are cherished.

Do we dare be that boundary breaking church living outside the safety nets?  Do we dare put the neighborhood’s needs before our own?  Do we dare be the church that is totally out of its mind?

Peace and Love,

Pastor Doug

A Wonderful Time to Be the Church!

The church is changing and growing and always becoming something new. And I believe it is a wonderful time to be the church.

I grew up in the church, in a family that held the church at its center. In my congregation, as well as most congregations in my hometown, the pews were filled on Sundays. Most of my friends attended church and grew up as acolytes and choir members. We went to Vacation Bible School together and then on to church camp. My Friday nights were often spent at my friend's church who held the best dances in town and attracted literally hundreds of high school kids from around the town, and I brought them to our youth group activities on Sunday nights. There was never a question of where our family would be on a Sunday morning. My dad sang in the choir. My mom served on the Altar Guild every week. And when I finally passed that rite of passage when I could become an acolyte, and then a crucifer, along with my friends, we celebrated. In my small town, "everyone" went to church - it was just the way it was. Ah, the good old days!

Of course the church doesn't look that way anymore. Most congregations cannot boast of filled pews. Budgets are tight. Church dances attracting hundreds of high school kids are a thing of the past in most places. If asked, many members of congregations would say the best days are behind us, not before us. People are in fear of losing their image of what the church was, and try valiantly to hold onto a church that still tries to do ministry the way it has for the past 50 years. But that is no longer the church we have. Nor should it be.

I do believe it is a wonderful time to be the church. Because the world is different than it was in my childhood. Today pastors are not just needed to preach and teach and pray and visit the homebound, but to be missionaries, visionaries, and approach ministry with creativity, vitality, and newness. People are hungering for meaning, for ways to make a difference in the world. There is a hunger for spirituality, for a sense of connection with others. Social media such as Facebook and Twitter can be wonderful ways to connect with hundreds of people, but they are no substitute for community, meaningfulness, and a sense of God's grace. Connecting with friends on a computer screen late into the night cannot replace conversation, mutual sharing, worship, singing and serving together.

The church has an amazing opportunity to be that voice in the world for which so many are searching. We have an opportunity to provide places where we can join together to explore our joys and our doubts, and to engage ancient voices that come alive through Scripture. We can provide opportunities for service in our community and in the world, hands-on experiences that are life-giving and transformational for those we serve as well as for those who are doing the serving. There are few places in society where people can come together from various backgrounds, ages, experiences, and join together for a common goal. And as the church we have something that no other organization has - we have the gift of God's grace that surrounds us, fills us, empowers us, and then sends us out, reflecting God's light in all that we do.

It would be easy to throw our hands up and lull ourselves into thinking that vacant pews and leaner budgets are a sign of decline and failure. It would be easy to try to find things to blame for the decline of the mainline church. It would be easy to make excuses. But we have an opportunity to explore and find new ways of living out the love and grace God brings to God's people.

Yes, it is an exciting time to be the church. To be missionaries. To get out into our communities and learn the needs and gifts that exist outside of the walls of our congregations. To join with other congregations because we can accomplish so much more together. To create an environment of acceptance, love, welcome, and hospitality for all, regardless of age, gender, sexual orientation, economic realities, or race. To pray together, sing together and share in the sacraments together. But always looking for how God is leading us, opening Godself to us, changing us, and calling us to be God's beloved ones.

Love,

Pastor Joanne

Pastor Doug's Maundy Thursday sermon

The following sermon was taken from another blog in which credit is given at the end.  In a world bent on exclusion, hear this radical letter from Jesus, whose command is simple:  Love.

"Dear Christians In Indiana (and those elsewhere, who might read this),

I’ve seen what’s been going on there lately. Actually, I’ve been watching you all along and I really need to let you know something, just in case you misunderstand:

This isn’t what I had planned.

This wasn’t the Church I set the table for.

It wasn’t the dream I had for you, when I spoke in those parables about the Kingdom; about my Kingdom.

It was all supposed to be so very different.

It was supposed to be a pervasive, beautiful, relentless “yeast in the dough” that permeated the planet; an unstoppable virus of compassion and mercy spread person-to-person, not needing government or law or force.

It was supposed to be that smallest, seemingly most insignificant of seeds, exploding steadily and gloriously with the realized potential of my sacred presence, becoming a place of safety and shelter for all people.

It was supposed to be something so very precious, such an obvious, invaluable treasure, that it would make all those who discovered and experienced it, feel like it was worth selling everything they had to hold onto it.

It was supposed my very body, here in your very flesh.

You were designed to do this, to be this.

My kindness, my goodness, my forgiveness; you were created to be the method of transportation for all of it.

You were made to deliver the greatest good news to a world so desperate for it.

This wild, extravagant, world-altering love I have for my people, was intended to travel from my aching heart, through your trembling hands, to my hurting people.

This has always been your calling. It has always been your purpose.

It still is. This very second it is.

I have placed you here at this exact place and time in the history of creation, not to defend me, as I need no defense; not to protect me, since I have already willingly laid my life down; not to judge others on my behalf, as this is far beyond your capacity and my instruction.

My beloved, I placed you here, not to defend or protect or replace me, but simply to reflect me.

That has always been my most critical commandment and your most pressing obligation; loving God and loving others. I thought that I was clear on that, when I was asked this before.

I showed you how to move in this world.

I kept company with priests and with prostitutes. I touched lepers and washed feet and dined with sinners, both notorious and covert. I served miraculous free meals to starving masses, and I allowed myself to be touched and kissed and betrayed and slandered and beaten and murdered… and I never protested.

All that is happening these days, all the posturing and the debating and the complaining; does this really look like love to you? 

Do you really think that the grandstanding and the insult-slinging and the side-choosing, that it feels like me?

Do you truly believe that the result of your labors here in these days, is a Church that clearly perpetuates my character in the world?

Is this the Gospel I entrusted you with? 

To be honest with you, I simply don’t see it.

How did you drift so far from the mission?

How did you become so angry, so combative, so petty, so arrogant, so entitled?

When did you begin writing your own script for this story?

When did you turn it into your story?

My children, here’s what you may not realize, being as close as you are to all of this. You may not be able to see it clearly anymore.

You certainly don’t have the perspective that I do, and here from my vantage point, this is what I do see:

You are driving people from me.

You have become an unbreachable barrier between myself and those who most need me.

You are leaving a legacy of damage and pain and isolation in your path.

You are testifying loudly, not to my love, but to your preference.

You are winning these little violent battles, and you are losing people; not to Hell or to Sin, but to all of the places outside of you, where they go to receive the kindness and decency and goodness that you should be showing them.

This life is not about your right to refuse anyone. If I wanted to avoid serving those I found moral faults with, I would have skipped the planet altogether.

I came to serve.

Your faith in me, cannot be an escape clause to avoid imitating me. 

Asserting your rights, was never greater than following my example.

Your religious freedom, never more important than loving the least. 

Your central cause, should be relentlessly conforming to my likeness, despite the inconvenience and discomfort that it brings.

When I commanded you to deny yourself, I was speaking about the times when it is most difficult to do so, because that is when “self” is the most distracting, the most dangerous, the most like an idol.

Obedience to me, usually comes with sacrifice to you.

I can’t force you to reflect upon these words, and I can’t make you live as I lived or love as I love. This was never the way I worked or will ever work.

I can only tell you that you have surely drifted from the course I started you on, and as often is the case in long journeys, it is a divergence that unfolds by the smallest of degrees, almost imperceptible while it’s happening.

That is why what feels like victory to you, is really another slight but definite movement away from me, and from the reason you are really here at all.

Not long after I walked the planet, as my Church was just beginning to blossom and my Kingdom was truly breaking out, a Greek writer named Aristides, wrote these words about those who bore my name then:

“It is the Christians, O Emperor, who have sought and found the truth, for they acknowledge God. They do not keep for themselves the goods entrusted to them. They do not covet what belongs to others. They show love to their neighbours. They do not do to another what they would not wish to have done to themselves. They speak gently to those who oppress them, and in this way they make them their friends. It has become their passion to do good to their enemies.

They live in the awareness of their smallness.

Every one of them who has anything gives ungrudgingly to the one who has nothing. If they see a travelling stranger, they bring him under their roof. They rejoice over him as over a real brother, for they do not call one another brothers after the flesh, but they know they are brothers in the Spirit and in God. If they hear that one of them is imprisoned or oppressed for the sake of Christ, they take care of all his needs. If possible they set him free. If anyone among them is poor or comes into want while they themselves have nothing to spare, they fast two or three days for him. In this way they can supply any poor man with the food he needs. This, O Emperor, is the rule of life of the Christians, and this is their manner of life.” *
                                                                                                                                                                                         – Aristides, 137 AD

To the Christians in Indiana, and those beyond who are still listening today; you would do well to hold these words up daily as a mirror to your individual lives, and to the expression of me that you make together in this place.

Is this what you see when you look at yourself?

Is this what the world sees when it looks at you?

In your words and in your ways, Church; do they see me?

If not, then regardless of how it seems to you, you haven’t won anything.

May this be truth, that truly sets you free"   ~ John Pavlovitz. 

* taken from Jesus For President, By Shane Claiborne and Chris Haw