There is Always Hope

Luke 1:5-20

If you were among the millions who did any shopping out and about or simply breathed this weekend, there's no mistaking in  our culture, what is coming. For the anticipation has been building for weeks now. . . .

 Walk into Starbucks (as I seem to do a couple of times a day with Kevin) and what do you see and hear? Festive music and large signs inviting you to try out a gingerbread latte with whipped cream on top.

Do some grocery shopping at Traders Joes and what do you see at the checkout? Pre-packaged gifts of chocolate for children in the shape of candy canes and Mrs. Claus.

Drive around your neighborhood and what do you see? Lights, wreaths and lawn animals beginning to adorn the walkways.

Hit the scan button on your radio dial and what do you hear? Pop and rock stations seeking to outdo one another with how hours and how commercial free their holiday music selection goes on in a given day.  (With such going on since nearly Halloween, you'd think that the climaxing event was this week!)

What is coming of course is Christmas. There is no mistaking this. And, so even though we haven't officially even turned the calendar to December yet, we begin our pre-Christmas festivities here at church this morning. We do so not as a church that is taking our cues from the hyper obsessed "All I want for Christmas (you fill in the blanks)" culture. We do so not so that we can get our fill of Christmas spirit here this morning and rush out from the sanctuary and sing, "This is the Most Wonderful Time of the Year." We do so not as a church who is trying to hit over the head our neighbors of other faiths, seeking to say, "We've got the market on 'Jesus is the reason for the season'  so you'd better listen to us."

Rather, we claim this Sunday as the beginning of our celebrations as a community in anticipation of what is to come on Christmas Eve because we know we've got some work to do before we're really ready to receive.  We call this coming Advent.

And, in celebration of Advent, we take our cues from the heart of what Advent is about-- waiting, anticipating, and readying our hearts to believe again that something amazing is coming. We go about the conspiracy of setting our hearts on the stuff that money can't buy and can't be ruined by the most dreadful of family dinners awaiting us a couple of weeks and that comes in gift boxes we will remember receiving 10, 20 or 30 years from now. For what is coming is actually going to fill our souls . . .

This morning, we began this journey by lighting the candle of hope. And seems appropriate doesn't it to begin such a journey of Advent, doesn't? For isn't this how most physical journeys you and I start, begin with hope.

When becoming a teenager, we can hope to receive our driver's license and thus our freedom soon. When we start college, we can hope to finish in 4 years. When we get our first job, we hope we won't get fired on the first day. When we find ourselves in mid-life, we can hope I'll make it to retirement with our  sanity intact. And, the list of "hopes" can go on and on.

Rarely to do you and I start something that we don't hope we can finish. And, finish well.

When we consider our gospel lesson for this morning, a story essential to the Christmas narrative, but often overlooked for it never appears in the lectionary (I just had to add it in on this day), what we find is an elderly married couple who we can assume began the story of their lives together with hope as well. They dreamed of having a productive life. They hoped and expected children. They hoped to grow old happily together. But, what we quickly uncover as we read this tale, is that their dream of "there is always hope" had seemingly passed them by: they found themselves well on in years with not exactly the life they'd planned for themselves.

Scripture tells us that Zechariah was of the priestly line of the order of the priests of Abijah. It was the kind of guy who had his life together and had tried really hard throughout to do the right thing and usually did. Not only was he a priest, as his family lineage had asked of him, but he married good girl, Elizabeth. Elizabeth was the daughter of a priest and of lineage of Aaron-- the first priest ever and brother sidekick of Moses.  Look with me in verse six to hear the narration about them: "[Zechariah and Elizabeth] were righteous before God, living blamelessly according to all the commandments and regulations of the Lord."

(And, isn't our assumption that if we do the "right" things in life and don't offend God too much that we can find our way into "living a good life" category?)

Well, in this case, the Zechariah and Elizabeth were known to have a good life-- a really good life, except one thing: they couldn't have the son or any child for that matter that would ensure their lineage for generations to come. Long before the idea became popular in modern times that a woman or man's worth was not determined by their childbearing status, in this time and place, having a child was everything. Absolutely everything to "success" in life as a Jew, where the growth of the nation had everything to do with Jewish families birthing more Jews.

And it is to this state of affairs, we find ourselves at the moment when it was Zechariah's turn to offer the incense offerings on behalf of the rest of the community-- a privileged honor that only happened once in one's lifetime--  that a visitation occurs with an angel. And, not just any angel: Gabriel.

As the hopes Zechariah and Elizabeth had of passing on the good thing they had going on to a child, were already long past (verse 18, tells us that Elizabeth was long past childbearing years), Zechariah hears the proclamation of hope.

Look with me in verse 13. The angel says:  "Do not be afraid, Zechariah, for your prayer has been heard. Your wife Elizabeth will bear you a son and you will name him John."  Consider this, the name John, that the baby to be would be asked to take, meant in fact, "Yahweh has shown favor."

And, it was true after all of these years that Zechariah and Elizabeth were going to be biological parents!

Though today as we hear this story and the ones to come about Joseph, Mary and the shepherds, our natural response is to feel all warm and fuzzy inside. However, what we might not realize at first glance is that truly it was a LONG road of feeling as though God had forgotten this family and pure hopelessness for YEARS and YEARS to get to this moment. Though it is easy to focus on the "happy ending" saying, yes, everyone finally got what they really wanted-- life, as we know it too, often spends more times on the process than it does with the "happy" solutions. There's always a process to get to the end-- and often the process can be quite dark and quite painful.

Consider this: while we read our Bible from cover to cover and see a seamless transition between Old and New Testament-- a transition for us that is as speedy as the time it takes to turn the page-- in actually the transition to the good news of the New Testament was not that fast.

Did you know that there was 400 years of silence, as far as prophetic words of the Lord went between the time the acts of the first testament ended and the second testament began? 400 years. If you consider our nation as only been an independent entity for 237 years,  with pages and pages of history books telling what happens in this nation in this story period of time, can you consider 400 years of nothing from God? Nothing new? Nothing.

With this true, I wouldn't have blamed them for thinking that God had forgotten them, would you? After such a rich history of prophets and leaders to guide them at every step and from generation to generation in the bad times and the good, to go SO long without as much as a word from God, would be the epitome of life without hope.

Yet, sometimes it takes a really long wilderness of despair to position us for what is next in this sin sick, broken world of ours. We just can't avoid the pain, no matter how good we are.

But, if we consider the meaning of Zechariah's name, "Jehovah remembers," we understand that he was the right guy to hear the news of promises of what was to come next. For, as this gospel opened: there would be a new calling for the entire community. No longer were they to go about business as usual. Now was the time to know that there is always hope. For if angels were now appearing to ordinary priests and older women, long past childbearing time were conceiving, and if grown men went mute in awe of the word of the Lord, then, reason to hope could be alive and well.

Though I really want to take issue with the Lord on this one-- "400 years, really, what did you expect them to do if you were truly quiet this long? and "Why, why, why?"-- what was coming was in fact so good that it was long worth the wait.

Though in the context, hearing that a barren couple was going to have a baby was not that big of deal, was it? It was just one couple, right? Though I am sure it was a painful life for the two of them, what really was the point for the community gathered around this story then and for those like us gathered around the story now?

As is the case with any blessing of God-- blessings are not meant for self only. We are given much so that others can receive much as well. Sure, it was going to bring Elizabeth and Zechariah a lot of joy to finally have the child they thought they'd never enjoy (which I'm sure God wanted to overflow in them), but this son of theirs would play a much larger role in salvation history.

John, the cousin-to-be of Jesus, would be full of the Spirit and would be used by God at this crucial time in history to bring about the coming of God's favor: a favor for all people in manner unprecedented before or since.

So, not only would Elizabeth and Zechariah receiving blessing from cuddling and showing off their miracle baby, but God would use their offspring to send a message to the entire world of: get ready, I'm about to remind you that there is always hope.

But, why?

Hope, as concept is one of the hardest things to lose when life's seas get rough, isn't it?  Sure, we might keep going, but it is so easy in your life and mine for bitterness to seep in when we find ourselves  with nothing but broken pieces in our hands.

Yet, the "why" of this great hopeful message comes in claiming and seeing ourselves in the particularities of the characters of the story.

Though it might be easy to say, "I'm old" and if life really needed me to do anything important "it would have happened years ago" the example of Zechariah and Elizabeth reminds us that if we are still breathing then there is always hope. So I ask you today, are you still breathing? Check your neighbor to the right and see if they are still breathing. If so, tell them: "In your life there is always hope."

Though it might be easy to say, "I'm broken" as Elizabeth must have felt-- her body was broken and couldn't seem to do what came to every other woman so naturally, this story reminds us that God's time-table does not take cues from the untruths we think of ourselves. For no matter how broken we feel in our bodies, our spirits or even how broken talents are, there is not a single one of us that is too messed up for God to give us our particular part to shine in. Look at your neighbor to the left and say, "No matter how broken you may feel, there is always hope.

And, though your life story might tell a tale of being sight unseen in a crowd, being the one who was left out in your childhood family when plans were made, being the one whose birthday gets forgotten year after year, or the one who just feels as if though no one has understood you in years, find kinship with Zechariah and Elizabeth and their soon to be outlaw preacher son, John. Though from humble and as ordinary as they come beginnings, God saw them and God used them to be the catalyst in God's great plan to bring hope to the world again. So, turn behind you to someone different and say to them too, "I see you and there's always hope."

Author Emily Dickerson describes hope like this: "Hope is that thing with feathers that perches in the soul and sings the tune without the words and never stops... at all." So, though we may walk through many dark nights and cold shadows to get to the place where you and I are to go, we keep singing. For there is always hope.

This, my friends, is the good news of the first Sunday of Advent. No matter who we think we are. No matter who we think we aren't. No matter where we have been. No matter how old, washed up or how many broken pieces there are around us, today we lit the candle of hope to remind us as we prepare our hearts for Christ's coming that what? "There's Always Hope!"

AMEN

The One Who Said Thank You: Luke 17:11-19

If your mother or parent figure in your life was anything like my mother, there was one thing certain after any birthday or Christmas celebration with family. We'd be required to write thank you notes. Who cares that it was the "job" of my grandmother and father (right?) to buy us toys for Christmas, or that I never actually met the real Santa, anyone who gave my sister and I a gift got a "Thank you so much for ___" note, from us.

If you are 5 or 10 or even 16 and your mother is making you sit at the kitchen table and pen out a thank-you note when you'd really rather be outside hanging with your friends, the practice of saying thank you becomes a dreaded exercise. "Do we have to, Mom? Can't we do this later at some other time?" was always the cry of my sister and I.

Of course now, as I recognize the good parenting move in my mom in this manner-- as I receive (and don't receive) thank you notes when I purchase gifts for my younger nieces and nephews-- I have come to believe that gratitude is a life style that never goes out of style. That time spent writing those thank you notes was indeed not wasted. In fact, expressions of gratitude are among the best ways we can give love back to our community. For, who doesn't want to be sent a "thank you" note or told by a friend or loved one "I appreciate you?" We all do.

But, what about Jesus? Today being the last Sunday of our liturgical year-- knowing as the celebration of Christ the King day on the eve of the American holiday of Thanksgiving, have you ever thought about how often Jesus receives words of thanks from folks like ourselves who say we're on a life path of following him? How often do you think Jesus was thanked when he lived on earth? How often do you think he is thanked now?

Well, when we encounter our gospel reading for this day, we uncover a situation where we find those two beautiful words uttered in the direction of Jesus: "thank you" by unlikely character, who simply did not forget how Jesus had blessed him.

The story goes that Jesus' was taking his ministry on the road. No longer staying simply in Galilee, he makes the trek with his disciples toward Jerusalem. And on the way, he finds himself stopping at a village where ten lepers approach him.

If we've been around scripture for very much time, we are certain to become familiar with a disease that seems to appear frequently called leprosy. Leprosy, known to us as Hansen's disease, the disease that causes grave skin malformation and open sores, but in Jesus' time, any who was labeled a "leper" as a person suffering from a range of skin issues and thus not allowed to worship or participate in cultural activities due to the regulations in the religious laws. The priests called lepers unclean.

So, for the ten lepers to approach Jesus was a very big deal. Though we often don't think of Jesus this way and at the time, his "radical" reputation was growing-- Jesus was still a Rabbi, a teacher of the law and thus for the lepers to come near Jesus at all was completely against the rules. So, what were they thinking?

I can imagine that they were thinking that they wanted to get better. And no matter how crazy this idea was to approach Jesus and ask for healing, they were willing at this point to try anything. If Jesus was a God inspired healer, as word was getting around town about him, then maybe by calling out: "Jesus, Master, have mercy on us!" might just do the trick.

And this was Jesus' response in verse 14: "He saw them, [and] said to them, 'Go and show yourselves to the priests.' And as they went, they were made clean."

And, WOW, to be labeled as "clean" meant everything to their future. Because really it wasn't the skin condition that they had which was killing them, but the isolation of being left out of everything in society. To be called clean again meant these "lepers" would be invited back into society as 'normal' human beings (and to be "normal" is what we all really want in life, isn't it?).

No longer would they be left out of  invitations to family parties and religious ceremonies. No longer would they be asked to live outside of the city limits. No longer would by-passers point and stare behind their backs when they walked into a room. What Jesus gave them when he looked these lepers in the eye and said, "Go and show yourselves to the priests (the clearing committee of the time)" was giving them their life back, before their skin disease came in and took it away.

I don't know if you have ever dealt with a long period of waiting, hoping or longing for something-- such as whether it is to be married, graduate college, or hear from your doctor that you are indeed cancer free.  In the midst of waiting, the process to get to the day when everything is right, everything is ok, is often excruciating isn't it? Nights of not sleeping, long days of hoping, and hours of daydreaming what it might "feel" like the day that you get the good news that you've long been waiting for.

But what happens when it such a dream day actually does come true? What does life feel like when the good news finally comes? If you are like most people in situations like this, once you reach a desired state of life, often, you not dare go back in the direction of what happened out of fear of it happening again. It's just too painful.  You are ready to move forward.

With this true about our own experience, we understand the bee line for freedom that the 9 of the 10 lepers expressed that day. Even with SO much to be thankful for, it doesn't necessarily make you thankful, does it?  After being healed, we never again hear about what happens to the 9.

However, in this text, there is one who forges a different trail-- a trail paved in gratitude.

"Then, one of them, when he saw that he was healed, turned back, praising God with a loud voice."

It is significant to note here that this one leper was the ONLY person in the entire gospel account that ever said thank you to Jesus. Though hard to believe, there was only one!

Of course, Jesus said "thanks" a lot. Thanking God for the blessing of food. Thanking God for God's presence with him. Thanking God for the gift of his disciples.  But, never, except this one account, do we hear of Jesus being thanked by anyone.

And, if you think with me a moment about all of the healing stories and life changing moments that disciples and the surrounding crowds experienced during Jesus' time on earth, it seems outrageous that only ONE came back to say thank you.

But, while shocking to us, such a phenomenon is not outside our own realm of experience. We don't say thank you as much as we should, not because we don't feel it nor think it, but we forget too. We figure the person or persons for whom we are grateful know how much we love and appreciate them. We figure someone else has already told them, so we don't need to. We figure that those who serve us like teachers, parents, or those in position of leadership in our government do so without any need for "thanks" in return-- so why waste our energy?

But, might we be missing out on the lifestyle of gratitude that was modeled for us by the leper who came back?

In Kathryn Stockett's bestselling novel, The Help, she tells the story of a recent college graduate girl, Skeeter, living in Jackson, Mississippi who begins a writing project about the African-American women who are "the help" to the white women in their homes in 1960s. During the course of her project, Skeeter, convinces several of the town's maids to secretly meet with her and share their experiences anonymously  of working for white women in a segregated society.

During one such interview Skeeter encounters a maid who worked for a woman who has recently died. The maid, though like a family member to this affluent white family, was never treated with the dignity and respect she deserved especially as she was known to work wonders with the family's colic prone children, often staying up in the wee hours of the night with them.

As the story goes, while attending the deceased woman's funeral, the maid, tells Skeeter, that she receives a note written by the woman she served right before she died. And, this is what the note to the maid said: "Thank you for making my baby stop crying. I never forgot it. Thank you."

The maid went on to tell Skeeter why it was important for her story to be recorded in the book. The maid said, "If any white lady reads my story, I hope they realize that saying thank you when you mean it and remembering what someone has done for you is so good."

In hearing the maid's story, Skeeter is surprisingly convicted about her own lack of gratitude toward her life-long maid, Constantine, whom she loved even more than her own mother, but never said thank you to either.

Though we talk a good talk about gratitude at this time of the year, when the truth boils down in your life and mine, we might just have to confess that we haven't been that one who remembered to say thank you too.

Life has gotten in the way. We've been too busy. And, before we know it, those in whom we want to say thank you to the most have passed away and our opportunity to express gratitude is gone. But, does this have to be our story?

But, if we sit for a while with the words of our text once again, we realize the exhortation placed before us today.  Though it may be our natural tendency to get through difficult circumstances, rough patches in our lives and never look back, Christ's call of gratitude is to never forget the journey and though who have walked with us through life's dark days or who have stood in the gap of our lives at times when we needed them the most.

On Thursday afternoon, at the Ladies Bible Study that meets monthly currently at Eleanor Penney's home, the women gathered and I found ourselves in a conversation about gratitude.  Janet Rickert shared a testimonial about a recent practice of hers-- writing notes to those in whom helped to raise and guide her becoming as a child who weren't members of her family. Taking the time as adult to write a note of gratitude for how her life had been touched by their contributions to it. When we asked her what happened next-- did she receive any response to the notes? She said yes. Those who received her cards got word back to her how happy they were to actually know of how her life had been blessed by them.  What a rarity, they noted, in our world to receive words and gestures of gratitude!

And, after Janet told this story, I could help but think, what might our lives be like if such was a regular practice of our lives-- not just in cards, but in every day words and deeds? What if it didn't take a season of the year for our lives to overflow in thanksgiving for how God has watched over us, protected us and guided us through our days?

What if we slowed down our lives at such a pace that we were able to say "thank you" more often to those in whom we've had a soulful connection that has encouraged our hearts?

What if we told teachers, doctors and family members who care for us in our hours of need, thank you for their love and care? What if we looked around this room right now at the faces of our church family and said to someone how grateful we are to have them as part of our lives and as part of our worshiping community?

I believe there is something about gratitude that changes us. It connects us again to our larger human family. It takes us out of our self-centered pity parties. It opens up our hearts to make room for deeper relationships-- relationships that can truly feed our souls. Gratitude reminds us that we never journey alone.

So, might you consider practicing gratitude this morning as a way of giving feet to this sermon-- so that none of us can leaving saying that we didn't tell someone thank you today.

So, as Ken begins to play in just a moment the music of our commitment hymn, I want you to live into your thanksgivings today.  So, this is what I want you to do: go to one person in this room and say thank you, to tell them that you are grateful for either their presence here today and/or their presence in your life for a particular reason.  Knowing that as you do it will do your heart good as much it will do for the one who hears your thanksgivings.

Then, we will gather together again and sing the hymn "Count Your Many Blessings" as a way to thank the One for whom we ultimately all our lives to anyway, Jesus Christ who is our Lord.

Let us practice thanksgiving today.

AMEN

I find myself being aware of the fact that I think about time almost all the time. . . . .

How I don't have enough of it. How fast it seems to fly on Saturdays: the one day of the week I get to spend completely with Kevin and other non-church friends.

How slow it seems to tick on Monday afternoons when it is just not time to go home yet.

How I'm already hoping God grants me some bonus years so I can go and do and see all I dream about experiencing, though I realize I'm only 31, with seemingly a lifetime ahead of me.

And, most of all, I think about how time is the great leveler for us all, rich, poor and middle class alike. We all get a chance at the same amount. Though 'they' say you can buy happiness, no one can buy time.

I have a friend, Sarah who lives with her husband and two small children in intentional community in North Carolina. Intentional community is just a fancy way of saying that she lives with others, both married and single alike, by choice, creating a makeshift family where all contribute to the financial and emotional load of the house. Sarah does not work full-time as most thirty somethings fresh out of school do. It's a lifestyle she began even before she had kids or was married. It has been her choice to devote her life to causes that she believes in first rather than her time being eaten up by the demands of a paycheck.

When I asked her why she chose to work less (and how in the world could she pay the bills?), she told me that the more she worked, the less simply she could live. And, living was more important for her.

Sure, she'd miss out on buying new clothes or getting fancy haircuts or go on trips without the consistency of a full-time income, but she'd also have the gift of time in exchange. She'd have time to garden. She'd have time to read. She'd have time to help the kids in her neighborhood with their homework whose parents were sight unseen. She'd have time to share lunch with her husband and friends who came in town to visit. Most of all she'd have time to contribute to the human race by breathing alongside it and actually being aware that she was doing so.

It's been years now since Sarah and I had this conversation, but its delightful tone has pierced me ever since.

More work= less time but more stuff (do we really need it?)

Less work= more time but less stuff (but stuff really isn't that bad when we need it?)

However, unless the solution to all of our time problems is to live in co-housing communities with one another (which simply just don't work with every lifestyle), what are we to do to make our lives simpler? Where are we to find time?

Thanks to my new ministerial colleague, Mary Ann, I've been musing more about the concept of Sabbath. Mary Ann, her husband and kids are engaging in a project of celebrating Sabbath (a day of rest from work) intentionally and she's writing about their experience in book to be published in 2012 called: The Sabbath Year. Mary Ann's project  (and the act of writing about it too) is forging a way of keeping the Sabbath as a lifestyle-- in the craziness of life in the DC metro area with three small children alongside-- enjoying time as God's gift to us.

What if we all weren't in a race against time? Practically, Mary Ann's words have stirred me to re-think Kevin and my run around crazy on Saturday trying to get errands done routine. Do we really have to go to Target every week?

Because isn't time is what we all make it to be? In the same way that my friend Sarah has made choices with her vocational pursuits to carve out time for people and things that matter in her life, so we all have the opportunity to make similar choices in each week's plans.

Though the phrase "I'm busy" or "I don't have time to ____" seems to rattle off all our tongues as quickly as "I'm hungry," we often have already made the choice to be busy. We allow our time to be eaten by stuff, no matter if the decision is conscience or not.

So, do we really have all the time we need-- in our weeks (to get the house chores done), in our months (to attend to the goals at work we'd said we complete asap), in our years (to fulfill all our dreams for ourselves and our families)?

Maybe we do in a spiritual frame of reference of time. Maybe such is possible, if less consuming lifestyle habits and Sabbath days of rest found its rhythms into us. Maybe. I'll keep thinking about it.

Today, I'm celebrating my fourth wedding anniversary alongside a man I think is a really amazing guy, but instead of turning this blog post into a purely personal narration of how much I love this man I admire more than any other in the world I wanted to consider marriage in a much larger context.

As part of my vocation, I probably get to talk about and participate in more marriages than the average person. People come to me for marriage counsel. I receive requests to officiate the weddings of others, most for whom regular church attendance is not a part of their week. I lead pre-martial counseling sessions for couples entering into the unknown of martial bliss.

And, in all of this, one thing is for certain, we all have screwed up ideas in one way or another of what marriage is. It takes time and long (actually very long) conversations and life experiences to work it all out. Whether it is because of the marriages (or lack thereof) that we've observed growing up, or unrealistic expectations of  what a partnership can be imposed to us from our culture, or unmet desires within our own lives that we hope another can "complete" us if we just find the right person . . . marriage, if we choose to enter it is often doesn't turn out how we might have planned. It can be both better than we ever imagined or worse.

There is one thing I know for sure about marriage and that is both partners have to be in 100% at all times. Nothing more and nothing less. Because:

Marriage is not finding a relationship that will meet all of your needs. Larger networks of friends and family are always important to sustaining the ebbs and flows of any long-term partnership. For me, I dare say that my girlfriends and other family connections are what have helped my marriage keep going especially at its lowest points.

Marriage is not a relationship with someone who you can expect to stay the same year after year. As much as you hope grow wiser ever year and maturity through the good and not so good choices you make, so will your spouse. Change will come not matter if we like it or not, so marriage has always been and always will be about a lifelong relationship of learning.

Marriage is not about bliss every single day. Fighting over what movie to see, disagreeing about what kind of chicken to have for dinner, and miscommunication about some of the deepest emotions your partner shares happens in even the best marriages. Just because you have a bad day it doesn't mean the marriage is bad. . .

Marriage is not about committing to someone whom you know and love perfectly on your wedding day-- for the journey has just begun. As I look back on our wedding pictures, I think "I barely knew Kevin then" (though I thought I knew him amazingly well at the time) for what we've been through together over the past four years. I think in many ways we've both surprised each other-- both receiving what we didn't expect on the day we first said, "I do."

Marriage is not salvation from the home life that you are trying to escape. No person, no matter how amazing they are can transport you to a world where your past life experiences aren't important in shaping your becoming. In making a new family together, you have to honor the past.

Marriage is not just about having sex without guilt and/or having children.  For those who get married out of the guilt of "we've already had sex so we must get married now" I fear this is not a good reason to start a lasting partnership. Marriages are about sharing your whole life with one another of which sex is only a part. And, children, when they are present in a home, are ultimately not enough to keep marriages strong. The adults have to work on this . . .

I wish someone had told me all of this about marriage when I first begun this adventure. But, I'm sure, as I know four years is only a short period of time, that my learning about what marriage is and isn't has only just begun.

About three years ago now, when I was interviewing with the Pastor Search Committee of Washington Plaza, I was asked: "What is one of the biggest mistakes you've made in your life?" (which is an interesting question by the way).

I'm sure I paused for a minute or two to answer (because who really wants to speak about failures at a job interview), but still remember what I said. And it was, "Times in my life when I have not been truthful to myself. When I have responded to situations in ways that were what others expected of me, or made decisions based on what was more of an acceptable choice, or held back part of myself in hopes that it might make others like me more. "

And, if someone were to ask me this same question today, I believe I'd respond in a similar way-- for when I think great errors in judgment have been made on my part, it usually goes back to a fear or inability to be ok with authenticity at a deep level. I've allowed myself to be beat down by things that people have said to me that are out of line with what I know God thinks of me. Or, I've allowed the puffed praise of others to led me to think more of myself and act in a way that shows I think I'm better than . . .

This week, I was having a conversation with a friend who I've been in relationship with for over 15 years. We've appeared in and out of each other's life stories though we've rarely resided in the same city. We were talking about what makes up the "good stuff" of conversations (at least from my perspective) . . . what makes us tick as people, what makes us deeply sad, and what we fears surround our lives that we rarely say aloud. And a consistent theme emerged: our deepest regret in our lives, even as my friend and I are generations a part in age, all goes back to authenticity.

We've both held parts of ourselves back in our friendships, our vocations and our marriages at different points when the fear that we just weren't good enough, or didn't have the right things to say (or in our case sometimes had too much to say), or even that if people found out what we really thought we wouldn't be accepted as readily.

And, the more I reflected on this conversation since, the more it has enlivened me and saddened me at the same time. Enlivened my spirit because through the sweet words of this kindred spirit friend, I've got some pep in my step again to keep moving in the direction of what I feel God has given me passion to do: to deeply encourage the hearts of discouraged that life in God's hands can be better than we ever imagined it to be. But,  I was also saddened because I know both how few resources of encouragement there are to live life this way (as everything in our culture seeks to tell us we are not right and must be "fixed" by changing our mold from how our Creator designed us to be), and how constantly fear seeks to hold all of us back from living out of this most authentic place.

It's really, really hard, I know to live life from your core of believing so strongly in something about  your vocation, your relationships or just your life in general or even if this truth you know will cause hurt feelings to others you care about, led to criticism or failure, and more sleepless nights of despair than you can count. But, I know for certain that as I see it in scripture, salvation is all about being made whole. So, if we say we are a people who are in the process of "being saved" then, we've got to get to the business of living life truthfully.

And by truth, I mean this: more than avoiding white lies to our bosses, more than admitting to our kids that we aren't supermen and women all of the time, and more than just trying to follow the 10 commandments, but taking the leap of abiding more honestly in this world as ourselves. Living with passion of who we were made to be and not thinking any greater or less of ourselves than God created us when the Lord said we were "made in the image of God."

Let's all stop making the mistake of forgetting and not acting on this great truth. In authentic living, I know there are sweet life moments just around the corner for all of us no matter in what circumstances we find ourselves in now.

God can be found in the strangest places. God can be found when we least expect, even in places where we don't feel welcomed.

Last week, I had the opportunity with a friend to attend an event an evangelical Bible church, a place I would normally not go for a concert my friend really wanted to attend. I don't like settings like this because I feel that if I were to open my mouth and tell the person beside me what I do, who knows what might be said or done to me! While there have been great strides in the acceptance of women clergy in certain settings, there probably still more Christians in the world who believe the manner in which I am carrying out my vocational calling is misguided and wrong. I simply hate to pretend. I don't like to  feel like I'm not allowed to speak, and so evangelical Bible land is not on any list of a place I'd like to go back to anytime soon.

However, as I was sitting in the concert, observing a blast from my past (I used to be great fan of the music that was being played), I began writing this blog in my head. For as much as I heard impassioned songs and speeches about who these individuals knew God and God's church to be, it is not the ONLY way. I felt empowered to claim differing ideas of what the church is and should be and why voices of progressive Christians like myself need to be heard as much as any evangelical ones do.

Though my church is not mega sized with bathrooms that look designed for stadium crowds with pamphlets on every corner about a particular ministry with rules for how everything in the church should be ordered, I believe we are faithful in what we do.  And this is what church means to me:

1. A place where all are welcomed-- where no creed, code or dress gets you in the door faster than any others. To be a woman, a minority, a gay, lesbian, bi-sexual or transgendered person doesn't mean that you come into church as a second class citizen. All are one in Christ Jesus who is Lord-- and no sin is greater than any other (and being gay is not a sin).

2. God is bigger, as the saying goes, than any one religion. While Jesus is our path, we have much to learn from the faith expressions of other seekers. Being respectful of the beliefs of others is a non-negotiable.

3. Life can never be summed up in proof texting scriptures like "Rejoice in the Lord always" "In all things God works together for the good" or "Pray without ceasing" (i.e. if you just pray enough then God will give you what you ask for). Life as I know in this church of mine is too messy for simple band-aid answers. There is only so much one can take. And, to make blanket statements like "God is testing you" or "You must clear out all of the sin in your life before God will bless you" are just gross. The world is simply a broken place and sometimes our lives merely reflect the brokeness. Yet, this doesn't necessarily mean that we have sinned in any way or less loved by God.

4. God is a mystery. To know God is not to memorize a series of scriptures on which to have an answer to everything in your life. To be a seeker of your Creator in this world means that there is much unknowing that is part of the journey. While having access to truths of scripture and being connected to the faith traditions of the past can be helpful guides, God's ongoing revelation with and to us, means that often we have to throw up our hands and say we don't understand. Part of belief in God is the process of being unbelieving.

5. People of faith are called on by God to be instruments of peace and justice in this world. Not because we are called to evangelize with force. Not because it makes us better people (though it might). But because we are a part of a human family and thus have a responsiblity to all to share what we have so that the blessings of life may be known to all.  Christ's life has taught us what selfish sharing is all about. Such should be our model-- being willing to lay down our life for others.

6. Worship is not to make us feel better or evoke some emotional response every time. Worship is to be reminded of who God is and why even in life's deepest pains, we have reason to hope. There is no one way to worship, and should not be dependant on any one form or process. Part of what it means to grow in knowledge of God is to be ok with different communities of worship's practice-- and not expect your way to be the way every time.

What is the church to you on your Wednesday edition? How might attending an event of a different faith tradition-- whether it be another denomination or different faith practice altogether-- actually strengthen your own convictions of faith?

I heard the sad news this afternoon that on September 30, my friend Joe Smith had passed a way. After struggling for several months with lung cancer, loosing his voice and later his strength, he ended his fight last week. He left this earth too soon!

When Joe and I first met, I was one of the pastoral associates at First Baptist Church of Gaithersburg, Maryland. He entered the picture as Interim Pastor hired by the church leadership to come and "supervise" the "young pastoral staff" because we weren't seen as capable of leading the church in the transition. If you know me well at all, you know that such an intention of the church leadership was not agreeable to me-- I felt hurt and overlooked for the gifts I could bring to the church at this crucial time. So, especially in our first couple of interactions there was tension. Joe wondered why I wanted to preach so much as the previous Senior Pastor had allowed and seemed unsure of what to do with me . . and I wasn't sure what would happen. At best, I hoped that we could work together in ways that were helpful to the church.  (Pictured to the right was the staff)

But as is the case in most relationships, when you move from knowing "of" someone to actually knowing them, things quickly change. As time went on and Joe heard me preach and I watched him lead, we soon gained respect for one another at a deep level, even with our theological differences. I knew he wanted me to succeed. He knew I would soon be a senior pastor, the question would just be where? I knew the church was blessed by his ministry. On countless occasions we would have long chats about how to best respond to moments of crisis within the congregation. Joe would carefully listen to my perspective and always made me feel like a valuable part of the team. I learned so much from him about how to lead when you aren't in charge, the importance of sermon series in shaping the life of the church and how to really love being a pastor.

When we had lunch one afternoon in Bethesda, three years ago now, I told Joe the news I dreaded to share. I would soon be leaving FBCG to become the pastor of Washington Plaza. He quickly put me at ease and cheered me on for this new adventure.

On my first Sunday at Washington Plaza in January of 2009, I found flowers on the altar that I knew he'd arranged to be present there in support of the day. And, when Washington Plaza installed me as their 4th pastor, Joe came again-- this time to give the "charge" to me to look to the future in ministry. He's pictured to the left alongside the two other speakers for the special occasion.

Over the past several years, we've kept in touch though we no longer worked together. I was given several wonderful volumes from his library that he was cleaning out and wanted to give to some "young pastors." (This time I didn't mind being called "young"). I found out that Joe was reading my blog and was eager to comment if something I wrote connected with him in any way. Joe was also quick to send me an email about news of shared friends. For he never wanted me to be out of the loop.

Joe was kind and thoughtful in ways that were attentive to detail but were never showy or over the top. He left a legacy of faithfulness in so many communities of well-edited documents, quick humor and preaching on his toes.

I will miss Joe and know some angels in heaven must be rejoicing about now as he is at peace. I am sorry, Joe, that I never got to say good-bye! I am forever grateful for your contributions to my life. With my deepest regards-- your last associate pastor trainee.

Back to the Basics Series: The Community of Communion

Matthew 18:15-20

If there is anything that remains constant in the ever-changing world of publishing, it is that Americans will buy a book if they think it will help them be better at doing something.  Though, maybe, you are like me and browse the “self-help” or “non-fiction” aisle at Barnes and Noble every now and then thinking to yourself now that’s not really rocket science, I could have written that! Men are from Mars and Women are from Venus seems to be a title any of us could have come up with! (Because we already knew this, right?)

Ultimately, we are a people who like finding a life script which tells us exactly what we are to do.  Such is why books like The 17 Day Diet, The Wealth Cure, and The 4-Hour Body are currently on the New York Times Best Seller list. Achieving my financial goals, all while spending 17 days to achieve the body I want, spending only 4-hours a week doing it, sounds great to me, doesn’t it to you? Using one’s own brain and/or practical sense is highly over-rated, isn’t it? Just give me some answers in plain speech.

In the same way, when many faith seeking Christians read our text for this morning, which outlines a script, a plan if you will for how to deal with community relations when conflicts emerge, they jump up and down and say in delight, “Finally Jesus tells us exactly what to do! It’s the script we’ve been hoping for! So let's get to it!"

And the script goes something like this: when there’s a conflict between two members of a church—presumably because someone “sinned” or is at fault for making a mistake of judgment against another, it is the job of the person who has been “wronged” to go and point out the error of ways to the other.

First, this should be done privately. The hope is that the sinning person will listen to the person who is calling them out, and so all will be well.

But, second, if this doesn’t work out, then, the wronged person is to gather support with two or three other witnesses, so to go back and confront the sinner again.  And, then if the person refuses to listen to this crowd, the entire church community should be notified of the wrong and if the offender refuses to confess their sin to even the church, it’s the ultimate insult.

 Verse 17 writes, “Let such a one be to you as a Gentile and a tax collector.” I.e. you are simply screwed. As Jesus was speaking to an entirely Jewish audience, he compares the unrepentant sinner to the worst type of person that a member of the crowd could think of—thus saying to them, you don’t want to be that person, so make up quickly!

Seems simple enough, but what happens when this comes to play in actual practice?

Pastor Deanna Langle, a Lutheran clergy woman, tells the following story from her congregation of the staff and church leadership seeking to live out these verses of scripture:

One afternoon Rev. Langle, an associate pastor at a large multi-staff congregation, found herself with a crying administrative assistant in her office. She writes:

The woman in front of me was a woman of integrity, deep faith and sincere commitment to the church. She had been hired to be a pastoral assistant, and in that role she had contributed substantial time and amazing gifts to the congregation. She had asked for a meeting with me only after trying to speak with her supervisor, the administrative pastor.

So when she noticed a problem, in this case the pastor’s misuse of power, she confronted the situation and challenged him. The senior pastor tried to silence her and ignore her.

Reluctantly, she asked the executive council to hear her concern, but council members refused.

The pastor had told them that the discussion must remain between the two of them. He quoted Matthew 18 in support of this decision: "If another member of the church sins against you, go and point out the fault when the two of you are alone." By complying with the pastor and his use of a biblical directive, the council members allowed him to protect himself and them from the truth.”[i]

The pastor simply got a way with a huge error of judgment that would hurt the congregation in retrospect for generations—all because he used scripture to “justify” his actions.

Sounds twisted, but you and I know that stories like this are not isolated cases. I have experiences like this in earlier places of ministry, myself as well. For if there is anything that Matthew 18 has given the church a legacy of, it is not peace and reconciliation, but it is often one of abuse of power, domination of the strong over the weak, and Biblical literalism slammed in the faces of those who are seeking to do the right thing.

For if read literally, these verses seem to imply that if two or three people agree on anything, they have the right to be the bullies. But, if you’ve read any other stories of Jesus throughout the gospels, the concept of these verses seem to say the exact opposite of the message of Jesus we’ve all come to know.  The message of “the last shall be first” “love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you” and all of the turning the world upside down questions that Jesus proposed. So where is Jesus in all of this?

If we turn back a few verses to the beginning of chapter 18, what we find that our lection for today actually comes in the context of Jesus having a few teaching moments with his disciples when they came to him and asked the question: “Who then, is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?”

And, though I can imagine that Jesus wanted to knock the boys around a time or two saying to them, “Are you not listening? Have you not been listening this whole time? Why in the world would you ask a stupid question like that?”

Instead, of giving these fellas the quick snarky comment that they probably deserved, Jesus models the different approach to conflict that he was seeking to teach about.  Throughout this chapter, Jesus opens up the conversation about how important it is to pay attention to those in whom we usually forget such as the children, those who are lost from home, those in whom we have conflict and those who drive us so crazy that we can’t imagine forgiving them yet one more time.

And, thus, without directly saying it, Jesus answered the “Who is the greatest the kingdom of God?” question by reminding them that there is another question altogether to be asking in the first place: “What is the kingdom of God?” Saying, life in the kingdom of God is all about an inclusive vision of the world where those who would seem to matter the least are not left out.

So, getting back to our particular lection for today, we discover that the over arching message Jesus is teaches goes back simply the COMMUNITY he hoped his disciples would create—a community that would be the foundation of their lives together as their faith was shared with the world.  They would need to a pay attention to conflicts among them because it had EVERYTHING to do with how they lived out his mission on earth.

But, in our social networked everything world these days, community is a word that doesn’t strike our ears as that unusual. Dave Loose puts it like this, “Community, after all, is one of those feel good words that draw us into idealism—we imagine something out of Cheers, a place where everybody knows your name is glad you came. But the really difficult thing about community is that it is made up of people! And people—not you and me, of course, but most people—can be difficult, challenging, selfish, and unreliable. Which means that usually when we’re daydreaming about community we’re often prompted to do so because we don’t particularly like the people—i.e. the community!—we’re currently a part of.”

But, if we are going to take Jesus seriously here, and we know that how we treat one another when we don’t see things clearly really does matter, then you and I are going to have to think of community in more serious terms than the care free nature of the theme song from Cheers.

We’ve got to know that bitterness, unresolved pain, and gossip can kill any fellowship faster than the presence of a dead snuck can kill an outdoor party. And, protecting our fellowship, matters doesn’t it?

So, with this true, we have to pay attention to how we are getting along with one another in community realizing that as human beings a) no one is perfect (including your pastor)

b) communities are made up of these imperfect people

c) when problems arise and we’re involved, we are to do something about it, namely be a grown-up and go to the person with whom you have a conflict and work it out directly first, and

d) if that doesn’t work, seek wise counsel from within the community knowing that it is the community’s responsibility not to choose sides, appoint blame, but to care enough about all people to see the struggle through.

Because I’m sure I’m not telling you anything new when I say that as human beings, we will always face conflict because our nature is to act independently, write people off when they hurt our feelings, rather engage one another in the deep wells of community. 

Yet, the question remains then, what will we do with the conflict when it comes? And, how will the church community be any different from the average mom’s club, running group, knitting circle, wine tasting gathering or investment circle—what makes a faith community so unique?

When I think about how a faith community, that Jesus was teaching about, distinguishes itself from all others, I believe a good way to understand it, all goes back to what it is we do here every month at this table. For it is in communion, you and I say something together about what type of community we are.

I want you to take out your bulletin this morning and look ahead in the service plan about what is upcoming in the service after the sermon. You’ll notice that the first thing we’ll do after being invited to the table is to pray a prayer of confession together. It’s an act we partake in as an expression of our faith in this being a meal that is not of us, but of God. And because it is of God, we must be mindful of God’s holiness—saying to the Lord that we have fallen short of all the good things prepared for us, and before we receive the bread and cup of Christ, we must consider our role in purifying our own minds, hearts and souls as individuals.

And, second, we will pass the peace of Christ to one another. While I know this is one of the most enjoyable parts of the service for many of you, like a good intermission break of musical chairs to greet your friends with hugs and handshakes of peace—its practice says so much more than meets the eye.

 We greet one another in the peace of Christ as a remembrance that we are ALL a part of God’s body. We all matter to God and so we all are to matter to one another.  And, so if we are out of fellowship with ANYONE that we worship alongside, we out of fellowship with God .

Coming to the table, you see is not an individual driven act, it’s not a place where we come to get blueprint of what to do next, or even a place where we can come thinking we are in this alone.

Rather, it’s a place where we define our community as one giant messy experience of faith in something larger than ourselves with our brothers and sisters in Christ as companions on the journey.  So that we can’t ignore fussiness, gossip, bitterness or discord of any nature if we want to truly see God’s presence in our midst. We have to claim our work with one another in community building as a sacred, a very sacred act.

The type of community we are to create, according to Matthew’s gospel, you see, is not to be made up of some token inclusivity that means diversity guidelines, politeness, and political correctness—but rather a state of being where we take our cues from this supper: a supper of radical inclusivity. The supper where Jesus taught us who was the greatest, when he as the Son of God, sits among this followers and says, “This is my body broken for you.”

I know one of your favorite songs, like it is mine, is the one that exhorts us, “They’ll Know We Are Christians by our love.” Today, as we take this meal and live out the message of Jesus that all are welcome here and in this body, all people will know we are Christians by our love of how we treat one another. It’s as basic and complex as that!

Won’t you join me today at this meal of love and celebrate together in our worship the community of Christ from which our communion is shared?

AMEN

The longer I am the pastor of my congregation, the more I am convinced that one of our growing edges comes in the category of diversity.

Diversity, a cultural buzz word these days often is what someone talks about when they find themselves in a homogenous group and know it needs some spicing up.  It's a word we often use to describe our intentions, but rarely the reality. It's something that makes us feel good to talk about but scares us to death to live out.

Yet, without mandate from an overseeing bishop (since Baptists don't have them), it's something that Washington Plaza has sought to be for over the years. We've regularly welcomed with ease members from other denominational backgrounds without asking for re-baptism. Many nationalities are represented in the membership rolls at all times. We have gay and straight members alike, no big deal. We have folks who are all sides of the theological spectrum on a number of given issues. And, we love the republican delegation of members as much as we do the democratic leaning folks.

All of this is great and should be celebrated and is one of the reasons why I am proud to be Washington Plaza's pastor, but I wonder if diversity is something that we find merely in our community and our individual lives as a noun or has it transformed our lives as a verb?

When I came back from my Interfaith trip to Israel in January, I became more convinced that if I said I was a pastor who cultivated diversity in my congregation and in my life, then there was going to have changes all around in my priorities. (I even wrote an article in Baptist Today about just this exhortation).

And, as I have begun to make changes, I've seen that diversity practice exists as an intentional lifestyle choice. And, it is a choice, I am challenging Washington Plaza folks to continue to make too.

I've found that it's a choice that shows up in who I go to lunch with. It's a choice that has everything to do with who comes to dinner at my home and to whose homes I go. It's a choice that says everything about what books I read, how I prepare for sermons and most importantly how I lead.

In light of all of this, as a congregation, we've been busy building relationships that are more than token partnerships right in our own neighborhood. It's good to start where you are, right? We're seeking to make real friends with other congregations which are like us theologically but different from us racially. We're seeking to make friends with those who look like us but theologically see the world going in different directions than us. We are seeking to make friends with people that we have never interacted with before such our Muslim brothers and sisters.

In the past six months, we've hosted Martin Luther King Jr. Christian Church for a celebration of diversity special afternoon service and reception, we've shared in a community forum at Oakbrook Church about Israel and Palestine, we've hosted our friends again from MLK for a shared meal, we've served as the hosting congregation for the Reston Interfaith Ministrium bi-monthly gatherings and we've welcomed friends in our facility from Northern VA Hebrew Congregation and other faith communities for an Interfaith book club discussion. Most of these congregations are in a less than five-mile radius of where we are located-- proving you don't have to go far to find ways to live into your growth of diversity.

And, this is just the beginning as I see it. Why? Because diversity is a verb. To be diverse, it's an action that one must make their own, over and over again until it becomes so normal that it doesn't feel like an imposed concept but simply who we are as people.

I'm glad to be on this journey of neighborhood partnerships, seeing to be a witness of  Christ's love in the Reston area. It's a work that has changed my life and I know will continue to do so for our church as the testimony of diversity as a verb lives on.

When you are a child, it is ordinary to say, "I want to be like ____ when I grow up."

We watch, we imitate, and we learn by being around folks who inspire us the most. It's the tools of how we figure out who we most want to be. Though usually our first ideas have something to do with being a fireman or a police officer or wonder woman. I always wanted to be a woman who delivers the mail, though you see how that turned out.

On the first day of our sessions with Richard Lischer, he said the first steps to becoming a good writer are admiration and imitation. And for this reason, we were asked to bring to class a selection of a poem or story that was particularly moving to us and our writing style. Words like "all I wanted was to be born with a good set of lungs" or "it is like touching a dented cup" flowed around the room and we all considered the ways in which our writing could be as the prose of those we liked the best. The morning of these reading brewed over with delights of ear all around.

In our everyday lives, we've all read a book or seen a performance or heard a speech when the person who is speaking sounds exactly like someone else we know. It's familiar, but maybe too familiar. So in the end, while useful as a learning tool, imitation, it doesn't provide our world with anything new. We don't see God in any fresh wind of the Spirit sort of ways.

There comes a time when art must come from within and rest upon individual voice. Who am I? Who are you? And how through what I say, can you tell us a part?

One of the themes that has run throughout several of my conversations, especially with the other female pastors at the Insitute this week has been of how much women struggle with voice.

In a culture when so much is expected of us: wife, mother, professional, writer, friend, you name it, we are much more likely among our male colleagues to shrink back when it comes to letting our voice shine through. We take associate positions when we really want to preach. We say "ok" to youth trips for back to back weeks, even if this means neglecting our children. We don't dare voice our ambition or dreams for fruitful work because we fear it might hurt someone's feelings. I could be oversimplifying, I realize, but there's something to this voice thing that we should pay attention to.

I speculate this problem occurs because we don't want to come across as the "over powering" or "bitchy" females. We are so thankful to be where we are, that we dare not ask for more. Or, simply we just don't know what our voice is because we're afraid of what we might have to do with it, if it was finally heard. And, as the church, we are left without voices, lots of voices that we need to hear the most.

But this week, I've been learning that my writing (and my preaching for that matter) will not soar to the heavens as it could, if I don't continually keep finding and hanging onto what makes me uniquely me. If I don't recognize my voice and use it, God doesn't have even a first draft to work with.

So, what's holding you back? Speak! Write! Be!

When I grow up, I want to be a writer. How about you?

When I began the journey into the strange world called being a Baptist female pastor, I knew there would be challenges. I knew there would be folks who would throw the Bible at me wondering if I believed in the same gospel as them. I knew I would have trouble finding positions to serve that my male colleagues would obtain with ease. But, what I didn't know is that some of my toughest critics would be my sisters, those who had come before me or joined the ranks of being a woman in ministry.

I once worked with a female supervisor who made a very big deal about wearing closed toe shoes in the pulpit. No exceptions during the time I worked under her. What was the big deal about open toed shoes-- too sexy? I laugh about it with this colleague now and wear open toed shoes in the pulpit regularly. And, I've never heard complainants about my shoes being a distraction . . .

I have a colleague my age who was told once by an older female supervisor that she had to always wear pantyhose to church-- even if she wore pants and even in the summer. Why? Don't dare show one's skin as a female? I have been known not to wear hose to church in the summer especially as I regularly preach in a robe over my clothes anyway. No one can see my legs after all, so who cares?

I supervised a female seminarian once who had just finished her initial preaching class the semester before with a female professor at a Baptist seminary. When I asked her some of the most memorable things she learned, she was quick to say:"We spent a whole session without the men in the room with the professor describing what kind of bra we should wear when we preach." What??? There are no words for this.

The more I've learned about the "backstories" to these encounters of mentoring, the more I've also heard that the older women who teach such things usually don't exactly know why they believe so strongly in these practices. It is just what they do. It was another woman who put the fear of God in them about shoes, hose and bras for preaching that they felt the necessity to put that same fear into their younger colleagues.

To all of this, I say it must stop.

To be a woman in ministry is not to become less of a female or to try to achieve some level of perfection so that we reflect well on our older mentors as one blog post yesterday seemed to suggest.

We, as women need to stop being the worst critics of one another.

Sure, appropriate dress, appropriate speech, appropriate presentation of our appearance are important professional development learnings, but my sisters, let us not take out the struggle of how hard it has been to get where we are on each other. There are some expectations that go beyond the realm of what it means to be human.

My sisters, practice kindness wear fun shoes while you do it.

"I love you."

It takes a relationship to a deeper level like no other three words can. Where were we when we first said the "L word?"  Often couples remember this moment in their dating time together more than any other. Who said it first? How often did you want to say it afterward-- screaming to the world, "He loves me!" and "She loves me too!" Time is marked with particular delightfulness.

Recently, I was chatting with a friend, when out of the blue the conversation was ended with a hug and the simple statement of "I love you." Nothing was meant by this phrase, other than the simple wish of how much our friendship meant to him. I was taken back and warmed in spirit all at the same time.

No matter who it comes from, there is something often shocking about these words, especially when we hear them for the first time.

But, what if such a word is not said often. What if such a word has not been said in years? What if great damage has been done in the name of the "L word?" What is unconditional devotion has been promised and pain has been inflicted in its place?

Where does this leave the hopeful beauty of these words?

One of the ministries of my congregation is a card ministry: telling visitors, new members and older members alike that they are thought of when they are going through a difficult time, experience a period of joy or loss. Though I know there is not anything unusual about this (lots of churches regularly send care, concern and celebration cards to their members), the more I have observed this ministry in action, the more I've realized there is something deeply rooted in the character of our congregation through these cards. And, it's love.

The first time Kevin and I got one of these cards, I was first shocked that I got something from the church that I didn't send myself. Then, as I read the note, I was overwhelmed by the fact that every single person who signed it included the word, "Love" before their name. The genuine nature of their spirit leapt off the page. Furthermore, I was not getting special treatment because I was the pastor. This is what they did for everybody! It was such a natural practice to say to their church family: "I love you."

What might it look like if our churches used these three words more often? What if the basis of our relationships with one another began with this? What if we not only loved each other through cards, but through actions and appropriate expressions of love such as hugs more often than every couple of years?

With all of the damage that has been done by persons in positions of power using "I love you" to manipulate, control and orchestrate inappropriate relationships within the church, I fear we as people of faith have lost the beauty of these words to bringing healing, comfort and joy to those in whom we are in community with. For as much as our society has commercialized romantic love, it's not the only love to be found in our lives.  I can say that if all I had in my life was the love from my significant other, I know my life would not be as rich as it is right now because I'm a part of communities full of love for one another.

Who might we need to take the leap of vulnerability with today and say simply, "I love you?" Where in our lives do we need to be more open to receive the outpouring of the blessings of love from others? How might giving and receiving love begin to transform our communities into more faithful, God centered places?

Go ahead. Just say it. "I love you."