Intractable

We interrupt this renewal leave for just a few minutes of reflection.

in·trac·ta·ble
[in-trak-tuh-buh l]
- adjective
1.not easily controlled or directed; not docile or manageable; stubborn; obstinate: an intractable disposition.
2.(of things) hard to shape or work with: an intractable metal.
3.hard to treat, relieve, or cure: the intractable pain in his leg.- noun
4.an intractable person.

I've observed the proceedings in Tampa these past days.

I've done so only through the words of those there, some of whom I know well and hold with deepest respect and affection, as well as others I know who are there for whom respect and affection are not the first thoughts that rise up in me ( it's my spirit work to do on that front, I admit freely).

I've not watched it online. I've not needed to. There are enough of you out there doing it for me - commenting and linking by the hour it seems. Right, Dad?

Some thoughts going into the home stretch (an apt image given the Derby is coming, and soon).

What we are seeing in Tampa is the product of a system so entrenched, so intractable that even if the winds of Pentecost were to blow through the place we'd be inclined to complain that it's interrupting the ever so important work we've come to do.

In a time when the world moves fast and systems and structures must adapt to be relevant, we continually demonstrate that ours is incapable. It's not entirely our fault. As my friend Sky recently commented, we've reaped what we've sown. And yes, I knew exactly what he meant.

Place incapability alongside unwillingness, and you've a deadly duo.

And let's be clear, we are unwilling.

We are unwilling to change. On a personal level, we understand how hard that is. How do you like when you are told you need to change? Get your back up a bit? Now imagine that feeling on steroids and wrapped in religious rhetoric. There you go.

Why are we unwilling? Why are we incapable?

A word first about the latter. Ours was a system from its inception that had built in protections from dramatic change. It's baked into the cake. There's some wisdom in that, no doubt. But we've met change slowly and often after the ship has sailed.

Historically, we've displayed capacity to adapt to social change more quickly than systemic change, but that has not always been the case. The Social Creed of 1908 was a masterwork of its time reflecting the influences of the Social Gospel and the emergence of industry's effect on people. Read it. It still holds up.

But we've not always been so bold.

We equivocated on slavery. We were embarrassingly slow on women in ministry and then patted ourselves on the back for how forward thinking we were. We change only after the issue is no longer prophetic in witness, just a sad commentary on why it takes us so long to do the God thing.

Systemic change though is another thing altogether. It's a tough one. Once established, systems seem to live on held together with the glue of arrogance that the world must adapt to the realities of its existence, not the other way round.

Unwilling? You bet. What we're seeing in Tampa is a global delegation who arrived convinced on certain questions. There is no room for the Spirit to move if you're already locked in on how you'll vote on certain questions based on the constituencies who have you in their back pocket.

There's nothing wrong with differing perspectives seeking to get theirs to you in advance. I signed the Common Witness statement. I did it because the Church is wrong and needs to change.  I did it because this is not an issue, these are people, people I know, people I love, people whose faithfulness to Christ often places into judgment my own.  I believe...no, I know it is the more faithful response to the call of God than what we're currently observing, but beyond showing support, my signature doesn't mean anything.

What does have meaning is the willingness of those gathered to stop acting like Congress whose members have been sufficiently lobbied (with all that entails) who find it their sole mission to placate the gods of the special interests that put them there, and act more like disciples of Jesus Christ whose measure of faithfulness is whether or not we are following him.

Consider, we purport to be carriers of Good News that liberates, and yet we behave as if we don't need it.  It's hard to make disciples of Jesus Christ for the transformation of the world when you're not open to being transformed.

We need to stop acting like we've arrived, and act more like people willing to follow wherever that leads us.

But that takes faith. And courage.

And when our intractability so supersedes our faith it then reveals our highest priorities...it doesn't matter how well we wrap them in religious speak, when our priorities and our votes persistently protect the ways we want and how we want them....the truth is before us.

The inability and unwillingness to adopt change of any kind - be it in structure, authority, or true inclusion have nothing to do with God and everything to do with a system impotent to reform itself.

Biblically speaking, think of it as hearts hardened, or the lack of power shown in the face of unbelief.

Absent substantive reform we've two options remaining---revolution, from a split (not likely because even that takes courage), or cascade collapse from the inside out as a result of a system that values its survival over faithfulness.

Nothing is more arrogant than thinking that the Realm of God can't come into being in its fullness unless The United Methodist Church is there. And while no one would say it quite that way in Tampa, we're acting like it's etched in stone.

Unless we show we've the capacity to move, to follow, to exercise faith it may just be etched in stone.

A tombstone.

But that may not be so bad.  What's this Easter thing about?

I've got two more weeks---I'm out.

Catharsis in Baltimore

I've written much over the years about my life and times in Mayfield, Kentucky.

In fact, I guess this blog has given space for thoughts and feelings to be processed and considered.  As an old friend is want to remind me, all things unresolved always resurface.  As I've alluded in previous posts, I think that much of who I am comes from my understanding of what of me was left unresolved from those years--

• Friendship, and the fierce loyality attached to those you dare call friend.  The truest since of that for me is probably a confusion between loyalty and desperation that the friends you have are friends you'll lose.
• Living in the balance between self worth and self loathing.  That's probably always been there, but is exacerbated by not being able to process what it means to be "me."  Am I loved for who I am?  Do I even love me for who I am? 
• Saying goodbye to the world you know when you're not ready - but truth be told, when are we ever really ready to leave the comforts and protections of the world that is safe to venture out into the great unknown?
• Curiosity of what happened to that world you left with you no longer in it.  It's not like people you leave behind will never be the same without you, I mean, really.  But there is something about knowing you've been remembered, especially in your absence, that brings a depth of meaning to what you once knew.

I've called those years my "wonder years."  It's a romanticized past. I've enough self awareness to be honest about that.  It's a romanticism born from what never could be given my leaving it.  Feel free to peruse previous posts for my musings of that time and place.

And there's the tie....the worlds I've left, from childhood to the present moment.   For most of my life, those chapters never interact or overlap.  They are sequestered pieces of the overall puzzle of my existence.

Part of my own issue about what of me I'll reveal to another, and the biggest part of me that I won't is impacted by this realization.  It is part and parcel of being an itinerant family.  And almost literally from the day of my birth (the family mythology goes that the day I was born was the day dad got his first appointment - it's no "brand plucked from the burning," mind you, but it is something to hang your hat on), to this moment in time.

I've not known anything other than itineracy.  While my experience of it, and my reaction to it may not be that of others (and I certainly hope it's not), I can only claim what the impact of that covenantal life has had on me.

Just because you promise something to God, and honor that promise, doesn't mean it stops being hard.

So I've had this fascination with my life in Mayfield in recent years.  I think it may have been brought to the surface when Jimmy died.  Nothing like the recognition of mortality to make one look across the broad expanse of one's life and wonder what if?  And, what now?

A month or so ago I was asked to represent the Memphis Conference Board of Ministry at an event in Baltimore.  Apparently, no one else but the chair could go (which I take as no one else wanted to), but I was willing.  Because I value the work of that body so much, if there was something I could glean from representatives across the church who do similar work, it seemed well worth the effort.

That, plus my expenses would be paid.

As soon as I knew I was going, I was reminded that someone I knew lived there.  Someone from my Mayfield childhood.  Someone with whom I had reconnected on "the" Facebook.  Elaine.

So I wrote her, told her when I was coming, and wondered if she'd be available for a visit.  She was.  She and her husband were going to pick me up and take me out for crab--in Baltimore.  Not too shabby.

I was shocked by how excited I was to reacquaint with her. I had not seen her in over 35 years.  Me, whose emotional shield is usually always up, was venturing into something I never thought I would or even wanted to.

What would I say?  Would she recognize me?  We spoke on the phone to arrange pick up times and she said "you sound just like I remember you sounding."  And I thought, "really?"  I was like 11 or 12 when I left and now I'm 46.  Could that be right?  And all the while I was thinking "you do, too."

I sat outside the hotel to wait for her to come by after her work.  I saw her, and of course it was Elaine.  We smiled and hugged and sat to visit for awhile waiting for John, her husband to drop by and pick us all up.

We talked about our lives.  Where we'd been.  I asked about old friends and if she still goes home to Mayfield.  We small talked for awhile as I mustered up the courage to do something I could no longer avoid.

Make a confession.

Now some of you reading this will have heard my sermon in which Elaine is an illustration.  It has to do with growing up and she was always the one who'd score just one point ahead of me on a test.  For every 10 grades I might eek out a "win" on 1 or 2 of them.

Hmmm.  Maybe that's while I'm a Tiger fan?  Another post for another time.

I was the Methodist preacher's kid.  She went to the Baptist church...blah, blah, blah.
I was "confirmed," she was "saved."  You know, that old chestnut.

And I've told that story of my competitive engagement with her several times in ministry.  Why wouldn't I?  I'll never see her again.

Ooops.

Preaching 101 - don't tell stories about other people without their permission.  I'm just saying.

You should have seen her face when I said, "I need to make a confession to you."

And I shared my story.  She was most gracious.  Even laughing a bit.  I don't know if she needed to hear what I said, it's no big deal, really.  But I surely needed to say it.

John picked us up, and took us to Nick's Fish House.  We sat outside on the water, learned how to eat crab, and had a wonderful time.  We reminisced.  We laughed.  I heard about her life and I told her about mine.  She's always been brilliant, and her work career bears witness to that.

One of the first things she said to me was "so, you followed in your dad's footsteps, huh?"  Her inquiry came from a point of reference that few have.  She knew me for what I was and now sees me for what I am.  There was also a sense of "really?  you?  a preacher?"  I get that curiosity, bordering on surprise....I really do.

Resolution.  It felt like grace.

It was as profound a couple of hours as I've had in many a year.

I have no idea what our reconnection meant to her, but I know what it meant to me, and I was so glad.  I felt like I had a claim on the lives of that bunch of people with whom I shared a childhood.  Trapped no longer in the past, it now has new life and perspective.  The chapters of my life are no longer sequestered from each other.  And this word rarely (and sadly) comes from my lips--it makes me "happy."

Because the occasion that had me in Baltimore kept me in a hotel conference room, I didn't get to see much of the city.  She told me I'd have to come back one day, and they'd show me around.

I told her I'd want to see Lovely Lane Church, the birthplace of Methodism in America.

"Oh really," she said.  "I didn't know that."

Ahhh.  Score one for me!

Radical? Really?

The word is "radical."

I've heard it spoken multiple times over the past several days.

The word following it was "hospitality."

It served as the "theme" for the 2008 session of The Memphis Annual Conference. Our gathering just adjourned yesterday.

"Radical Hospitality," one of the 5 Practices of Fruitful Congregations, a book by Bishop Schnase, is all the rage right now. As Churches lose their way - they become desperate for something to "do" to stem the tide.

Bishop Schnase's book is a helpful, compact guide to open the awareness for any who seek to tap into the characteristics of vital congregational life.

My concern, however, is how easily the word "radical" rolled off the tongues of any and all who employed it during the Conference. Something that should challenge, prod, push our comfort zones and boundaries - something that should make any and all of us squirm was invoked as an action plan.

As it is with so many things in the church - this is going to be a church "program."

You don't just "do" radical hospitality - you must first have a heart to be radically hospitable. Sure, we all have things to "do" in our congregations to be more welcoming to any and all who come to us - and those things must always have proper priority.

Radical hospitality is of the sort that causes folks to squirm because it welcomes those nobody else will - those with labels, those with reputations that are not always favorable, those whose presence, not only in our worship, but in our own lives, cause us to question the preconceptions we've placed on them not because we know them, but because we know what we think how "people like that" are.

Jesus associated with these folks - and who was hacked off? Religious folks. To program radical hospitality and not make it incarnate is to vitiate it of its power and Gospel witness. And to be hospitable in the name of Jesus without being radical is to homogenize it (as we do we so much of the Gospel) and make it too palatable.

Make no mistake about it. Homogenized hospitality will yield homogeneous congregations - something we have an overabundance of right now.

Even the artwork of our Conference, while integrating elements of the cover of Bishop's Schnase's book, to communicate something natural, organic and alive, could easily be interpreted as "Radical Hospitality" wrapped in camoflouge - which is to say present, but hidden.

Radical comes from the word from which we get "root." Too many of us think of radical as being whacked out - on the fringe. Radical hospitality is the opposite - it moves us to the essential nature of our being - the foundation of who we are. And for the Christian community, that root can be none other than Jesus of Nazareth.

Which brings me to the "why' of radical hospitality. It felt, more than once, that we were being told to practice "radical hospitality" as a means through which we might realize church growth and renewal. That may be true, but it should not be seen as a means to an end - it loses its authenticity otherwise.

There's way too much "means to an end" thinking in church leadership anyway. Results and the ways of Jesus are not synonymous. They can be in sync, but they are not always congruent. In fact the way of Jesus is the harder path. Always.

A church that is radically hospitable will grow and find new life. The radical part is that it will grow in ways it can 't expect or predict. The truer measure of just how radical your hospitality is not if you grow numerically - but if you grow by shrinking.

Jesus did teach about pruning the vine, did he not?

The challenge is that churches have to ask whether it wants any part of that. If it doesn't (and I suspect most really don't want to be too radical) then they'll delude themselves into thinking that new signs and visitor forms will bring them more members and call that hospitality.

But if a community of Jesus' companions truly does practice it, in all its "radical-ness," the "Gospel" will be lived. Lives will be changed. The stranger will be welcomed as family.

And the "religious folks" will still grumble.

REPOST - "It's the 'How' That's the Problem - Or, R.I.P. Underwood"

With the transition between these two congregations having come and gone, and with a group of Underwood nomads wondering the Methodist congregations of Memphis looking for a place to call home, as well as a group content to never step foot inside a United Methodist Church again, I've decided to re-post this previously pulled article, complete with original comments - even the "anonymous" ones. I do this to keep before us the real pain suffered by this act of violence and the complicity of a system that let it happen. Oh, and I count myself as part of that system.

Some years ago, when Dr. Kervorkian's story was very active in the consciousness of the country, a poll was taken among United Methodists as to whether or not they believed that "euthanasia" was appropriate. Well, the "system" freaked out. Seemed that United Methodists, by something like 3 to 1 thought that euthanasia was an acceptable way to bring life to its close.

Missives emerged from the higher ups encouraging conversations that "death with dignity," which the Church affirms, cannot be confused with "mercy killing." Were theological hairs being split?

For the purposes of this post, I am not here to debate that issue. Rather, I want to report a case of euthanasia that has occurred in the city with a worshipping congregation. This congregation is a pivot point in my call to ministry.

Underwood is my home charge conference. I started the process for ministry from that church back in 1982. I stood before that charge conference, told of my call, and under Paul Douglass's superintendancy was voted upon as to whether or not Underwood would endorse me and send me on to the district. I still have that paper ballot stored away somewhere.

Those folks helped raise me. They are good, proud people who have cared for and loved each other well for 50 years. That congregation, no larger than it is, has spawned an extraordinary number of clergy into our conference -a fraternity of which I'm proud to be a part. And while my progressive leanings may not resonate with their worldview I've never doubted that they were proud to count me as one of their own.

At this point I want to be clear:

What I comment on is my understanding of what has recently transpired in the official actions of the legislative body of that congregation. It is not my intent nor perogative to interfere in the actions of another congregation - even one I love deeply.

But since official action has taken place, I do believe I am within my right to offer comment.

By action of a recent Charge Conference, Underwood's last service will be March 2 and they will be worshipping with Colonial Park UMC thereon - even though the merger is not official until Annual Conference in June.

Here's my problem:

Underwood has been in a state of flux for a few years. Like a number of churches in the city they are among those who have found it difficult to establish an enduring niche for ministry in their community beyond the legacy of their own story.

They didn't need to be told that. They have been very self-aware.

This issue is not whether or not they should close, merge, or do any of those things that a chartered congregation may do as it ponders its future. It is a matter of process. And this process is replete with manipulations and distortions that signal to any who observe it that the end justifies the means.

By any objective measure, to have an exploratory committee formed in Advent and be effectively closed before Easter - in a year when Easter is extraordinarily early, is a study in haste - it is pulling the plug on a congregation. It is neither merciful nor dignified.

To have questions of congregational ultimacy determined by the Charge Conference, rather than the Church Conference, while "legal," is not the way to make such decisions. Why not have the congregation "own" this decision in total?

So, congregants made a decision based upon a picture that had been painted, a "truth" that had been implied that's official sounding enough to leave the impression that it must be so and fuzzy enough to wiggle out of when people finally start waking up, albeit too late, to see what's happening to them.

It appears that some of the congregation were left with the impression that if they didn't vote for this merger measure they would be closed by June - that the annual conference would not appoint them another pastor. Did that come out of thin air?

How could anyone consider a 12-7 vote a win, when 2 of the 12 are automatic, and as many as 4 of the 12 voted believing they had no choice? The Church, when it wants to reach a particular conclusion in the face of divergent opinion, too often bows at the altars of Robert's Rules and The Book of Discipline than the altar of Christ Jesus.

This is about voter suppression, and the marginalization of choice. Choice of what to do with their last days as a worshipping congregation - choice of exploration of all options of what to do and where to go - even their choice of when to say goodbye.

March 2 may seem expedient to some. I call it violent - and that's what euthanasia is - and if, when it comes to something like this - the behavior of those on the "winning" side looks more like a conquest than a covenantal merger - you have your answer of what track this train was always going to take.

So, you've got a few who'll go along with the program. God bless them, and I trust they find what they're looking for in this new arrangement.

But you'll have a large group of folks, whose voices were silenced, who'll speak now by their exploration of other options - any option other than the mandated one. And, you'll have a congregation robbed of its chance to say farewell gracefully - something that any of us would pray for upon the hour of our deaths.

And the saddest truth is - a relationship with Colonial Park may well be the best choice for Underwood - but the way at which it was arrived will scar ministry's potential for years to come. If this is the way we're going to craft an urban strategy for ministry in Memphis, I don't want any part of it.

There is a way to do this, one that is difficult enough - but grace-full. To do violence to a congregation is not it.

Oh, and when the annual conference actually gets to vote on this merger, even though it will be perfunctory - there will be at least one "no" vote on the floor of the conference. Mine.

Urban Strategy

Last week was quite a few days for Methodism in the city.

You may not have known that, or recognized it. The only local press on the event didn't quite capture what was going on (o.k. they missed it big time), and the only photo was yet another picture of the remains of the First Church building downtown.

Now, I don't want to diminish the impact of losing that historic building has had on the city - and especially so for the congregants of First Church, who really are First Church - but, c'mon, CA, there are more United Methodist churches in Memphis than First Church and, of course, all the press that is seemingly necessary when a new guy shows up at the little chapel on Poplar Avenue.

Oh yes I did.

So, what was it? This thing that happened last week that was launched in our very own L.P. Brown Fellowship Hall? Well, that's a really good question - and I'm still working on an answer. But here's what I can say.

We met, talked, prayed, toured communities all over the city in which we currently have United Methodist congregations.

United Methodists in Memphis, like so many urban centers, suffer from either inability, incapacity, and, in some cases, unwillingness to minister to those they find within their communities. It's something not unique to Methodists, but since that's the world I know, I'll speak to it.

In a rare instance of true leadership - the Memphis Annual Conference has asked that a 20 year strategy for Methodism be formed. Informed and shaped, in no small part, by the proven leaders of Methodist Healthcare, a team of clergy, laity, and denominational leaders were in the city last week to begin the task of articulating this strategy.

Now a true critic (not that I know any : ) would say that such an effort is at least 20 years late - but that perspective negates the reality of the moment, and the true belief that God has the capacity to work in and through God's people that will surprise us still - and I, for one, am holding hope that the winds of the Spirit will yet blow.

And we're going to need a whole lot of the Spirit's leading to be faithful to the task before us. We had representatives from every General Board of the church (even a couple of General Secretaries) present at these days of discernment and planning. At first, I thought they had come to tell us how to do it, but it became clear really quickly, that they don't know how to do it, either. They're hoping God uses our efforts to do something of meaning that they program into other urban centers where ministry is languishing.

Now here's what I want folks from Saint John's to know. Not only are we well represented on the team that will come up with this strategy, Saint John's will play a vital role in announcing the Good News of Jesus Christ through the United Methodist Church.

And while we'll be a part of the connectional effort to stabilize and revitalize the Methodist witness to the city - I say we don't need to wait for some larger strategy.

We already have one. What is it?

By doing what we do, and not apologizing for it - not boasting, but inviting - and always being willing to accept the challenge that comes with the true, radical hospitality of the Gospel - -

May God bless our efforts and may we be found faithful in them.

Just Watch the Connection Work - In Support of First Church

The city of Memphis, and the Methodist family suffered a tremendous loss in the early morning hours of October 6. The national press has picked up the story of the fires and the scar left on downtown's historic legacy.

But as beautiful as that church building was, and it was a beauty - you just watch the character of the people, who actually are the church, and, the connection of "the people called Methodists," show what we're really made of.

I'm offering updates on Saint John's response to our sisters and brothers via email, and they are posted here.

Friday, October 6, 11:00 a.m.
Saint John's Family,


We join with our sisters and brothers at First United Methodist Church to grieve the loss of their historic building, but we stand firm with them, as a connectional entity, that the "people called Methodists" who worship on that corner in Memphis, will, by faith, persevere.

Let me give you an update on where things stand at the moment - We have communicated with Martha Wagley an offer for use of our facilities in any way we can be of help.

Their strong preference, however, is that they remain in downtown, and, if I were their pastor, I'd be much of the same mind. I have spoken with Rev'd John Holt, Asbury D.S., who is on the scene and informs me that the Cannon Center has offered their space for worship, and that is the most likely scenario for their gathering this Sunday. Bishop Wills is in route, and will be worshipping with the congregation this Sunday.

The official word from the connection is this - it is too early to know exactly what needs to be done, and in what sequence. However, in a few Sundays from now, the call to Conference is to hold a special offering for First Church, and we will abide.


The realities of their ministries, and now, those ministries' displacement, especially their food pantry and soup kitchen, will impact what we do on our corner, and that may be a challenge for us to meet. I believe, however, we will respond well.

In the meantime, let us be constant in prayer for our sisters and brothers, for those who are served by that community, and for the city of Memphis - all have suffered significant loss today. And as we have learned in our recent past, our response must be measured for the long term.

I'll update more when I receive more info.


Peace.
Johnny

Saturday, October 7, 12 noon

Folks,

I've received a contact from First UMC, and, as you may have heard by now, they will be worshipping at Cannon Center tomorrow.

They have called Saint John's, and requested some items to offer them help for tomorrow's service, and I have consented.
1. Offering Plates
2. Our Processional Cross
3. Paper Products for a reception following their worship

They have asked me to contact my membership to see if any would be willing to provide 1. Cookies, 2. Punch, 3. Muffins, 4. Fruit

This message is also going via phone to some of you. If you are willing to offer any of these things, they need to be at church tomorrow no later than 8:30 a.m., because they are coming by in the morning at 8:45 to pick them up.

In addition, they are inviting any and all Saint John's members to join them in the reception following the worship at Cannon Center.
I plan to go by there, and hope you will, too.

Let me also encourage you to be in our worship tomorrow at Saint John's as we celebrate the baptism of Herb and Marjorie's son, Vincent.

They are not thinking beyond Sunday - and I feel sure there will be continuing needs that we can help with - but, for now, let's help them with tomorrow's service.

Peace.
Johnny