Category Archives: community in Christ

tree of life

Posted on by
Reply

I have been drawn to trees of late.

Truly, it has ever been thus.  Some of my most powerful childhood memories include times spent held by trees.  Climbing trees was an elemental need for me then.  Sitting on a branch, surrounded by green and growing and supported by power and movement, I was home.

In my professional life, I have been powerfully engaged in green and growing.  It has been a season of funerals for long time members.  As I have sat with family and heard stories and hearts, I have felt grafted into the alive thing that is family.  Pastors are allowed to be, for a time, a part of the life cycle of families.  When we gather for funerals, the hope is that family members feel surrounded by the life beat that is a growing, powerful, and eternal tree of life.

Today in the mail I received a gift from one of the families.  I had come to know them well through officiating at the funerals of their grandparents who died weeks apart.  They are a beautiful lot, and the ways they named the knot holes of family life and the alive of gratitude moved me.

They sent me a tree.  It is on a silver pendant, crafted by one of them.  It has heft and power, this symbol, and I am moved by the convergences.  I am blessed to have been a part of their witness of the tree that is life.  I am blessed to wear that symbol as I continue to sink roots into the Holy and reach toward the sun in my own life and the family I am blessed to learn with.

Sometimes, the thing that is parish ministry near takes me to my knees in wonder.  We hold the space in community where we pray that others will find each other and the Holy and in that partnership move toward life transformed.

I am transformed.  I am transformed by the welcome, the lament, the laughter and the snarl that is life.

The tree will remind me:  Sanctuary is, alive is, life is.

 

circle of light

Posted on by
1

I have just come from a circle of light.

Clergy women from around the metro gathered for worship and lunch.  We were asked to share our name and where it is we have seen the Holy during this season of Advent.

The answers were soul resonant.  The Holy is present in church and children and mothers and in the ways we are able to open our hearts to the light of love.

Following the time together, we braved the howling wind to walk to one of our sister’s condo.  She was having an estate sale.  She is moving to California in order to be fully present there in her retirement.

This woman is a titan.  She has blazed trails for women in such a way that we who gathered are her spiritual offspring.  She has provoked and challenged and witnessed and been a voice of one crying in the wilderness and being in her home in order to own a piece of her life was a pilgrimage of sorts.

I wandered through her condo feeling the bittersweet of gratitude and grief.  How is it she will leave Minneapolis as her home?  Who will we be without her goading presence?   How does it feel to her to have her life opened and marked and sold to those who come to buy?

But mostly, I felt wonder.  As I looked at the faces during the brunch and in her condo later, I was amazed to know myself as a sister in connection and the light of that woman-bond is banked treasure.

Jeanne Audrey, your witness resounds.  The rough places are rough yet, but in your company and with the many who share a passion for justice, we will live together yet into the vision of wholeness in the Christ.

This I believe.

 

Marriage matters

Posted on by
Reply

We are organizing to defeat the upcoming Marriage Amendment in Minnesota.

The “we” in this case are United Methodists.

Knowing that we are a part of a movement grounded in the teachings of Jesus that welcome all to the table of communal grace, we’re organizing.

Eight of us sat at table today to strategize.  It was a rollicking conversation, full of gratitude for our theological heritage.  As Wesleyans, we look to an ethical framework that considers scripture, reason, tradition and experience.  As Wesleyans, we are enjoined to consider the world our parish.  As Wesleyans, we celebrate a connection woven through grace and the sure belief that injustice is meant to be challenged by people of faith.

We’re planning gatherings across the state.  At those gatherings we’ll worship, share the theological groundings that impel our witness, and learn how to effectively converse with others in order that heart might be shared.  And, we’ll serve as a resource for kin in faith across the state who seek to speak for inclusion.

It is blessing to live in the state of Minnesota.  We have a heritage of speaking up around justice issues.

It is blessing to be United Methodists.  We have a heritage of speaking up around justice issues.

So, stay tuned.  And if you are passionate about insuring that those who are blessed by love for another of the same gender ought be accorded the opportunity to celebrate that love in church and state, join in!

 

some days are like that

Posted on by
Reply

Some Sundays require holy naps.

This Sunday was one.  The church had turned its soul inside out to provide a beautiful service of Lessons and Carols.  During the second service the music and power of community blessed.  Between services a tea was offered by some of the pillars of the church.

It was a stunning morning.  And, I was beat.  I came home and put myself to bed.

After a fine sleep feast, I attended the Christmas Pageant at Cooper’s church.   The place was packed full of moms and dads and grandparents and church members and kids adorned with angel costumes and shepherd’s duds.  The energy of expectation was palpable.

We began with hearing a youth orchestra play, followed by a children’s choir singing about how powerful it is to share light in this world.

During the congregational singing of “Hark the Herald Angels Sing” the tears stoppered inside of me started to flow.  I was sitting next to my husband in worship, which I never get to do.  I was surrounded by a people who needed to tell a story of good news and grace.  There was pride and joy and wonder in the air.

I needed it.

Sometimes the relational freight of being church near breaks my heart.  The squabbles and misunderstandings and wound scraping seep into my soul and the grief of it becomes climb-into-bed powerful.  Like many in the season of early nights, I can wonder if the light will shine again with warmth and promise.

And then I am enfolded into a people who share the good news of the Word Made Flesh with gusto.  The reason for the season is so clear:  we are to be enfleshed love, sharing light even when the times of darkness seem near overwhelming. We need each other in order to remember who we are.

This was a day of proclamation:  Through the strings and voices at the Lessons and Carols service, through the cello and gentle of the Living Waters worship, through the sharing of sugar and warmth at the Christmas Tea, and through the raucous and tender way the story of the birth of Love was shared at Minnehaha UMC.

We remember who we are.  We are a people awaiting a rebirth a wonder.

Thank God for the call to come, to bow, and to weep for the beauty of it all.

 

What if?

Posted on by
2

I met yesterday with clergy of many stripes.

We were Lutheran and Church of Christ and United Methodist and Presbyterian clergy from Richfield and Bloomington who responded to an invitation.  The invitation was this:  how might we come to know each other and our shared call to prophetic ministry?

What is prophetic ministry?  It is ministry grounded in scripture; ministry that challenges us to consider that a constant strand running through scripture is the insistence the Holy lays before us that we are to bind the wounds of all.  The prophets sounded call to those who had wandered from the less-than-easy.  They reminded God’s people that without acts of mercy and justice communion with the Holy is not.  In particular, people of God are to tend to the needs of the most vulnerable.  If they are not cared for, the ways of God are not being lived.  Jesus sounded the voice of the prophet throughout his ministry.  His was not a message of behave-nicely-boys-and-girls-and-you’ll-eat-bon-bons-in heaven.  His was a message of creating the kindom of God NOW, here, wherever it is you find yourself.

And we who were gathered?  We are needful of support and a sense that preaching prophetically won’t get us fired.

The men and women in the room yesterday are people of great heart who entered the vocational fray that is parish ministry because they were moved by hope.  We who gathered yesterday share a contextual reality.  In the sixties, our churches were busting out with young families and the buzz of being suburban dream land.

Now, fifty some year later, we are living in inner-ring suburban churches seeking new ways to be in relevant ministry.  Our parishioners, many of whom were part of the glory-days church boom are aging, our membership often change-resistant even as the world morphs outside the church walls, and our voices isolated and more prone to soothing than challenging.

What if, we asked ourselves.  What if we talked and learned and listened and discerned where the common woundings are in our communities?  What if we gathered with other people of faith from our ‘hood and strategized ways to respond?  What if we linked the hearts held in common by the Christ and joined hands to better our communities?

What if we aren’t alone, trying to appease pew folk who do what any of us who are frightened do:  clamp down hard on what is and fiercely defend it? What if we dared to trust God enough to step into relationship with each other and the communities God has called us to serve?

What if?

 

engaged

Posted on by
Reply

“The opposite of love is not hate.  It is indifference.”  Ellie Wiesel

Wednesdays are dense and luscious for me.

I begin my day at eight AM with a table full of wonderful men.  We gather together for Bible study.  They have been doing this for decades, these men.  They let me join in.

I learn much at that table.  We talk about many things (studying scripture does that) together.  We are diverse as can be.  Gender, generations and political ideologies stretch us to hear and understand in a way grounded in the power of the Christ.  We see each other in a more fulsome way.  We aren’t sword wielders for a cause, we are people full of holy passion for life and learning and we trust each other enough to share our sense of things in a way that invites listening.  At that table I am a deeper and finer thing than merely Pastor.  I am sister in Christ.

On Wednesday nights I meet with a wonderful collection of humans who come together to explore Christian discipleship.  We are exploring Wesleyan theology and what it means to be an accountable disciple in the way of John Wesley.  Wesley knew how we need each other in order to grow into our fullness.  On Wednesday nights, we are able to explore words that jangle and stretch:  sin and salvation, grace and justice.  The room hums with the power of the collected souls.  We are kin in Christ and the joy of our mindful seeking permeates the places of tired and despair that walk in us each.

There is much the church is not.  Sometimes people seize on the “is not” with a seeming glee.  Armed with conviction about the glaring flaws, distance is cultivated and tended.

But there are others.  Others who practice the engagement of being willing to hear the heart of another and in that hearing know the soundings of the Holy.

Indifference is a choice.

I’m moved by those who choose engagement.  My life and the lives the engaged are blessed to lead are the better for it.

water works

Posted on by
1

I get teased something fierce by my kids.  They have such great material to work with…

One of the standard teases has to do with the post-baptism glow that walks with me for days.

Being able to baptize infants and adults and toddlers and youth is Holy Spirit zap powerful.  Each baptism is different.

A few weeks ago I was able to participate in my first ever on-my-knees baptism.  We were blessed to have a family with three children come for baptism.  The eldest is wise beyond her years and she was so very present and aware of (as much as any of us can be!) the Spirit power she was sharing through her baptism.  Her  youngest brother was next. Having watched his sister, he was feeling like maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing.  So he put his hand in the bowl full of baptismal water and let his fingers feel the water that was being dipped and placed on his head.  And then there was his brother.  He is four.  He wanted nothing to do with baptism.  He made like a fine escape artist and I wondered if we would need to share this holy sacrament sometime when I didn’t have to tackle him.  In order to try to connect with him I found myself on my knees on the floor.  But then he stopped.  And he allowed grace to bathe his head even as he maintained his dignity by shaking his head “no no no” with each dip.

This past Sunday we were able to welcome a four-month old as a sister in Christ.  Honestly, her eyes never left mine throughout the introductions and the asking of questions and the prayer over the water.  And when it was time to baptize her, as the cold water was gently put on her head, she broke into the biggest smile I have seen on a four-month old face.  No fooling.  She knew exactly what was going on.

I’m still filled with wonder.  To share the sacred in community is transformational good.  I know I have been transformed through the gifts of these recent baptisms.  I am a skipping, awe-full Pastor.

My heart is still on its knees.

what is (?)

Posted on by
Reply

There are dramas aplenty for the living.

Republican candidates are posturing, the President is mingling, protesters are gathering and the polite veneer we put on being community in these days is being fissured but good.

We are what we read and believe, aren’t we?

Charts are flying through cyber space indicating that the economic well-being of many is in worse shape than it has been since before the Great Depression.  Corporations are flourishing while actual earning power is languishing for those who are working.  The number of those who cannot find work is dismally high.

Facts is facts, right?

Except that facts get spun, depending upon ideology.  Whether liberal or conservative, we latch onto the “facts” that support our perspective.  And if those facts get our hearts racing and our sense of umbrage pumping, they are precious indeed (evidently).

I’m aware of the power and privilege of preaching every Sunday.  I’m aware that every time I approach the fear-and-trembling task involved in weaving Holy teachings into the plot of daily living, I’m coming from a perspective molded by which facts I cotton to.

Facts don’t lie, right?

But whose facts?

I was in conversation recently with someone working in a drastically changing profession (so say we all, right?).  The benchmarks for what makes for professional integrity in her field are shifting.  She is doing her work grounded in what she holds to be basic tenets of competency.  Others have tossed off those tenets as expendable.  It is wracking her.

As Wesleyans, we are called to assess our preaching, our living, our giving and our being through the lenses of Scripture, tradition, reason and experience.

Nothing I have encountered through any of those four lenses prop up the gouging of the poor. Nothing.

Nothing I have encountered through any of those four lenses prop up the notion that God and God’s people are to dismiss and seek to silence the crying out of the oppressed.  Nothing.

Which tenets are expendable in the practice of Christianity?

The question is wracking us, but good.

It ought.

 

 

 

 

 

 

blowing out the pipes

Posted on by
Reply

Last night there were nearly 400 people gathered at church on a Friday night.  We were there to celebrate a spectacularly enhanced pipe organ.

The air was charged with gratitude.  Those who gathered were current church folk, past church folk, and those who feast on the sound of a fine pipe organ.  In the house were those who had put their bodies and hearts to demolishing the old and building the new.  We knew each other to be compatriots in the great work that was going to be brought to our ears and hearts.

We weren’t disappointed.  From the moment organist Dr. James Welch began his concert, we were taken in.  The river of sound washed over us with all the voicings such an instrument can share.

My heart was near to bursting with gratitude.  For a century and a half, a scrappy and grounded crew of the faithful has sounded praise and lament from the corner of 58th and Lyndale.  Children have been raised, missions begun, hearts held and lives dedicated to the practice of living as disciples of Jesus.  We were at it again last night.

Any church is a dance, a partnership between the Holy and the human.  We gather to remember who we are in the midst of the chaos and competing claims of life.

Last night, the “who we are” was so clear.  We are a people committed to the power and possibility of transformation.  We need each other.

And so it was that last night we celebrated the with the sound of the flute and the trumpet what it is to be alive, woven, and generative.

Thanks be thanks be thanks be.