the Outlook Blog

Though this part of the city largely escaped the worst of Hurricane Katrina (the church’s sanctuary was badly damaged but has been restored), this congregation has experienced a rebirth in the wake of the storm because of the sense of mission the devastation awakened. In the weeks following the hurricane, the congregation mobilized its membership and resources; it assembled, coordinated, and housed volunteers from around the country to rebuild homes and indeed whole neighborhoods ravaged by Katrina.

The vitality of the church is evident in its worship and preaching, as well as in programs of community service. As the leadership of the church reflected on the church’s future mission in our leadership retreat, asking what might be the next steps the congregation needs to take, some wondered aloud what it would mean for them to re-envision their whole mission program yet again. Beyond the immediate goal of building homes and neighborhoods, what would it mean to allow their on-going mission work to afford also an intentional educational opportunity for themselves and for others? Members of congregations would come to their city not only to rebuild structures and neighborhoods, but to gain new and deeper understandings of Christian mission that might transform the lives of their congregations and communities back home. St. Charles Avenue would become a mission-education center, as well as a coordinator of mission itself.

The conversations over the course of these two days were lively and animated. In closing my portion of the retreat I described four beatitudes that had been taking shape in my mind as I listened to them discuss their mission past, present, and future. These beatitudes may be worthwhile for all of us to remember as we continue to rethink, adapt, and transform the ministries of our own congregations.

Bless dissent. In the very first session of the retreat a theme emerged: No single one of us knows where our church needs to go next, but together we will. In order to discover the shape of our future mission we must bless dissent. The church is the Body of Christ, St. Paul tells us, and a body has many organs, each with its own distinctive functions. However, not only does a heart have a different function from a foot, it has a whole different perspective on the body and the world the body inhabits. Variety of perspective isn’t always pretty, but differences need not lead to divisions. We must learn to bless our differences, even (maybe especially) our dissent, because we simply do not know where the key insights are coming from that will transform us, and no one of us has the understanding we need to find our way.

Bless failure. Samuel Becket once wrote a line of sheer poetry that also represents a fundamental insight into human maturity and good leadership. “Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try again. Fail again. Fail better,” Becket wrote.  Notice: there are no question marks in this collection of six short sentences. The hinge on which maturity and health turn is in that third small sentence, with its gracious shrug of the shoulders. “No matter.” It transforms the fact of life (We try. We fail.), making possible the resolute and marvelous closing sentence, “Fail better.” The education we all need waits for us in our failures.

Bless story. Someone once observed, “Do you know why I believe that ideas can change the world? Because nothing else ever has.” I love this statement because I love ideas, the bigger the better; and the statement is almost true. But there are times when good ideas, even great ideas, don’t win the day. When great ideas don’t win, I’ve noticed that the thing that beat them was a story (though some of the stories weren’t even true). The power of stories, of legends, myths, fables and fairy tales is the greatest power for transformation known to humanity. The late Don Hewitt, the creator of the enormously successful television news magazine, “Sixty Minutes,” credited that program’s durability to the fact that they always answered a basic human request: “Tell me a story.” A church needs to cast its big ideas (including its mission) in stories.

Bless blessing. The power to bless is ultimately the greatest power the church possesses. We live in a culture of cursing. Cable television and talk radio are driven by the power to curse. And if we, as church, simply conform to the mold of this age, cursing our way through our culture, we will have failed to live up to the call of the good news of the gospel of Jesus Christ, who came into this world that we might have life and have it in abundance. The curse boasts that its power is the only real power on earth. But, as the Bible reminds us again and again, the end of the curse’s power is always a grave, and the power to bless raises us to new life. The author of the original beatitudes chose to end his list with this one, reminding us to “rejoice and be glad.” After all, it’s when we bless that people notice a family resemblance between us and the God who created us.

MICHAEL JINKINS is dean and professor of pastoral theology at Austin Presbyterian Theological Seminary in Austin, Texas.

 

 

[...]

A good friend and his congregation were recently dismissed, graciously, to the EPC, and though he and I differ significantly on quite a few things, he and I have known one another for nearly 20 years and each respects the other.

Knowing one another, there can never be charges of any kind, because of our mutual regard and respect - for we have come to our differences via much the same path: prayer and study, faithfulness to Christ and a love for the church.

Yet, like Paul and Barnabas with regard to Mark, here we are, on different sides of some major issues.

In our conversations with one another, one thing we agree upon: we're both terribly tired and mutually eager to get on with the mission of Christ as the Holy Spirit unfolds that mission in our respective lives.

I told him that I would daily pray for him, his congregation and the EPC. Frankly, at first, praying for the EPC wasn't the most pleasant sensation, but I stayed with it, even as I prayed for him and his congregation.

Interesting phenomenon - my spirit is healing; I find myself praying for the EPC more agreeably, as I know he prays for me and my gang - prayer without prejudice, but simply a prayer for blessing.

All in all, we have reached an impasse of major proportion, and it's time for us to deal with it rather than attempt the humanly impossible, and we have to quit deferring our struggle to some distant hope for a miracle - church history reveals its better, after a long siege, to go our separate ways, lest even more damage be done.

Like Paul and Barnabas, there was a separation of the ways. Yet, I suspect, they prayed for one another, and we can do the same.

History has seen the deck shuffled many times. In this land of cabbages and kings, it's not likely to be any other way.

One thing for sure, we have to cease the court battles.

And for the churches who leave, I would hope they have the means and the will for some financial remuneration - it's only fare.

Yet Paul says this: owe no one anything but love, and that we can do.

The words "apostate" and "heretic" have no place in the life of the church today; we are all sisters and brothers of Christ in the family of God. We must stop vilifying one another - it only brings hurt to the Body of Christ and shames us in the eyes of the world. And it's time to bid farewell to one another; we won't live that far away from one another, and I suspect there will still remain plenty of opportunities for us to enjoy fellowship and engage in local and regional mission. Who knows, there might be union Presbyteries in the distant future. It happens all within the family.

So, ca we really pray for one another?

We can, and we must!

We compliment one another …

Some can sing and some can pray with a special gift that blesses someone else.

Some can teach and some can preach.

Some have a way with dollars and cents.

Some can plan and organize.

Some have an extraordinary sensitivity and compassion.

Some are visionary.

Some are filled with the passions of justice and social reform.

Some dream dreams and see visions of God.

Some are quiet and some are loud.

Some are hard and some are soft.

Some are heaven-drawn.

Some are earth-anchored.

Some love the past.

Some love the future.

But take all the someones, and we have

The sum of it.

We all add up to the church of Jesus Christ.

And he loves us all.

And needs us all.

To finish his work!

Everything is up for grabs at the start of the 10th year of the 21st Century.

Not unlike the years surrounding Calvin's tumultuous and creative life. At any point in time, it was impossible to predict how the next ten years would unfold in Geneva. Yet Calvin wrote prodigiously and hopefully, anchored in God's sovereignty and with a passion for the person in the pew, so to speak.

As I begin the year and look back over my 40 years of ordained ministry, I turn to the future of mainline denominations with hope for our emergence from a "dark" period of time. Or was it so dark?

One man's darkness may be another man's light.

The last 40 years have seen us RECOVER from the supreme success we enjoyed after WW2 and during much of the 20th Century; we built our megachurches all across the landscape in American cities - talk about 24/7, with incredible programs, jammed worship services, gymnasiums and full-service ministries. Our pulpits were manned by princes, our seminaries were guided by theologians of immense ability, missions were expanding and especially after WW2, thousands of new congregations sprung up in the growing American suburbs, many of which became the second generation megachurch.

Yet in the midst of this, there remained small town and rural churches, places of energy and pastoral strength, but with huge shifts in American population, the disappearance of many of them was inevitable.

Our first generation of megachurches in the cities have clearly suffered huge transitions, and many of them are long gone, tough there are plenty of remarkable exceptions - e.g. Fourth Church in Chicago. And in our older suburbs, where so much of the post WW2 growth occurred, changing cultural patterns and the aging of the inner-ring suburbs have shrunk many of our second-generation megachurches, and many have closed their doors.

During this period of time, new forms of worship and music emerged, inaugurating what came to be known as the worship wars, and bloody they were, but out of the noise and smoke emerged a third generation of megachurches, beginning with Schuller's Chrystral Cathedral, a hybrid of sorts, of mainline and independent trajectories. Then came Willow Creek and Saddleback, and the rest of is history. All across America, the emergence of flagship megachurches - stripped down buildings, 24/7 small groups, high-tech worship, preaching that was both biblical and pastoral. Yet thousands of smaller congregations continued their work, though overshadowed by the media exposure of the large churches.

And there emerged, during this period of time, a truism: Conservative churches are growing and liberal churches are shrinking.

The problem with a truism is that it’s always a half-truth; it surely reflects a pattern, but some took that pattern as if it were the absolute and final blessing of God, and they became legends in their own time, if not their own minds. And the growth and creativity in other settings was ignored, if not ridiculed.

What with America's fascination with "leadership" and growth, folks forgot that church growth is largely the result of two factors: God's grace and location.

Stats in the last few years are beginning to reveal cracks in the truism; conservative churches are experiencing what the mainliners experienced 50 years as the tides turned. Their ranks are rife with debate, if not full-out rancor, with plenty of heresy trials underway, moral failures (nothing new there, but a reminder that everyone puts their pants on one leg at a time, even the superstars of the megachurch stages - pulpits, of course, no longer used), and slight declines in attendance – is this small change preface to the larger changes that occur inevitably in the shifting sands of time?

The megachurch and its success has stilted its creativity. Look at a 25-year old video and one shot last Sunday, and there is no difference: the clergy wear jeans and shirts pulled out, use high-tech tools, and preach pretty much the same message, and for many these days, the message has become a pop-psychology mix of personal triumphalism infused with Old Testament stories and a lot of Pauline materials.

The vaunted success of the "conservative" church is no longer a sure bet, and the churches that hung their heads in shame over their lack of or negligible growth are beginning to emerge from the shadows only to discover their worth, and that God is in their ranks as well, doing mighty things.

It's too early to tell, but the truism that propped up the pride of some (yes, it was pride, wasn't it?) and caused thousands of good pastors and fine congregations to hang their heads in shame and exhaustingly chase after every new program that came down the pike from the publishing houses or was touted at the megachurch teaching seminars, is clearly shifting. And sadly, thousands of congregants bought the truism and blamed their pastors, their denominations, their seminaries when the "thousands didn't show up,” even as the truism pitted enthusiastic pastors against their congregants, charging them with lack of vision and willingness.

But new images and ideas are emerging! The culture wars are subsiding. Mainline congregations, battered and bruised, are recovering, and books like "Christianity for the Rest of Us" by Diana Butler Bass are a part of the reconstitution of the mainline church.

Things are a-changin' ... God does that; lest we build our towers to the heavens, God comes down and confuses our language, spreading us out to the world.

All of us are learning, and perhaps we're learning how to bless one another, help one another. Megachurches are grappling with Barna-type studies that reveal embarrassing failures in their efforts to make disciples and nurture their own children into the faith.

Mainliners are catching their breath and regaining their confidence.

Sure, the church as I knew it when I was ordained at the First Presbyterian Church in Holland, Michigan, is long gone, but new energy is emerging all over the place, and we will find new ways of being Presbyterian, connectional and missional. Leaner, for sure; but not meaner. Humbler and contrite, as we discover God's grace anew.

I think the next ten years will be very good for the mainline churches, and the megachurches, too - as we learn how to humbly love one another and appreciate our respective visions and ministries.

After all, we’re all in this together … for the glory of God!

 

As the writer of a weekly editorial, I often can predict which editorials will generate a flurry of damning letters to the editor.  From time to time, the flurry turns into a real winter storm, and once in a long while it catches me like a blizzard, catching me by surprise.  So it has been this past week as critical letter upon letter has popped into my inbox.  

              My shoulders are broad enough to handle such reactions. God well prepared me for this role long before calling me to it.  But from time to time I feel the need to set the record straight – to counter fallacious arguments against what I’m convinced is right and true.  This is one of those times.

              Two preliminary thoughts:

              First, the very first letter received was prescient.  Toby Brown warned, “Godwin's Law alert! If you want us to take your arguments seriously and discuss them, comparing people with whom you disagree to Nazis is pretty much a conversation killer.” Uh, I didn’t compare anybody to the Nazis.  But my mere mention of the Nazi Holocaust did unleash a host of knee-jerk reactions, producing many letters that argued against points that were nowhere to be found in nor implied by my editorial.  Note to Toby:  “Bro, it kills me to admit that you were even partly right, but the evidence does show that drawing any kind of analogy to WWII Germany can blind many folks to the point one is making.  I will keep Godwin’s Law in mind in the future.”

              Second, the editorial does not intend to provide a thoroughgoing apologia for Christians’ advocacy of immigration reform.  Neither does it develop the very complicated language that such legislation would require.  Such an argument cannot be developed in 700 words or less.  Rather, the editorial alludes to such things, with the assumption that readers will be able to fill in the blanks – consistent with my intentions (as over against the erroneous inferences drawn about Nazis).  Indeed, the editorial operates like my friendly but frequent critics, Parker Williamson and Jack Adams, the retired editors of the Layman, have operated for years.  When quoting folks like me saying something that actually sounded orthodox and/or intelligent, they often would add, “What s/he didn’t say was…” and they’d add some quote from years before, often taken out of context or even fabricated out of the air, to demonstrate that I or the other person really doesn’t believe what we’ve just been quoted as believing.  Such a reporting style has served up lots of laughs among friends over the years.  Well, in the present case, I would footnote my editorial with “What I didn’t say was…” and I’d throw in the more lengthy arguments that Outlook writers, myself included, have written in the past on the subject of the immigration.            

That being said, allow me to explain my position a bit more clearly and systematically than I did in the editorial itself.  Three simple points.


1. We must obey God and not man [sic].

 
When referencing Mary and Joseph’s arrival in an unwelcoming Bethlehem and, soon thereafter, their escape to Egypt, plus the allusion to heroic Christians protecting Jews during the Holocaust, I was illustrating an obvious truth for us believers:  when the laws of our homeland counter the laws of God, we must obey God.   I could have illustrated that further by talking about the survival of Moses in his infancy, or of Israel’s escape from the Egyptian armies, or Elijah’s defiance of King Ahab and Queen Jezebel, or young David’s challenges to King Saul, or the eating habits of Meshach, Shadrach and Abednego, or just about any page in the book of Acts.

              So many stories of believers in the Scriptures and through the past two millennia highlight the deep conviction that when the laws of the land conflict with the laws of God, we must obey God.  In fact, that point is so self-evident that it hardly needs to be mentioned.

              …except for the fact that for many, many American Christians, the application of God’s laws regarding strangers and aliens gets qualified by drawing a dichotomy between the two categories of “legal” and “illegal.”  While such categories certainly play a role in the development of immigration legislation, such categories cannot be given sacrosanct status.  Such a dichotomy does not exist in Scripture, and, accordingly, we must – at very least – call such a dichotomy into question if we are going to treat God’s law as sacrosanct.

 

2. God’s will for our treatment of immigrants is explicitly taught in holy Scripture


Pull out a concordance.  Look up the words, “stranger” and “alien.”  Read what each of those biblical texts says.  The message is clear:  God loves strangers and aliens.  God commands us to love strangers and aliens as ourselves – an explicit clarification of the Great Commandment.  The contexts of those texts make clear that they’re talking about migrants.  And the power of the gospel is expressed as Christ’s mission of welcoming those of us who were aliens and strangers to God and to the people of God, leading to the end results of making us all citizens with the saints.  The teaching of the Bible is explicit and emphatic.  And, while the particular intentions of some immigrants are hostile and subversive to our way of life, our approach to immigrants must be guided first and foremost by those biblical teachings.

 

3. Illegal aliens don’t wish to be either


They don’t wish to be illegal.  Most don’t even want to be aliens.

Yes, some immigrants are crossing our national borders to import illicit drugs or terrorist plots.  Our border patrols need to be provided the tools to identify and capture such individuals, to seize their destructive products, and to set the stage for their conviction and punishment.

              But, as suggested in the editorial, most immigrants have not come here for such reasons.  Most have come here for the same reason that their parents and grandparents did: to earn a living that can provide for their families.  In most cases, their fathers and grandfathers left behind wife and children for three to six months at a time, journeyed across an invisible border to a farm or ranch, and worked there during harvest or round-up, and then, returned home with enough funds to sustain the family through the rest of the year.  Their homeland’s backward economy and corrupt government did not offer a better alternative.  But their annual migration patterns served them well enough: they fed their children.  And the pattern served American farms and businesses:  it provided laborers that helped them prosper.

              That all changed when an economic policy was formed into tri-national law during Bill Clinton’s administration.  As is usually the case, the intentions were good, but unintended consequences kicked in.  Border protection expanded.  Those who had been migrating seasonally now were being treated not as guest workers but as interlopers, even as criminals.  Many were arrested.  And, the prosperity that that legislation was supposed to deliver to their hometowns did not materialize.  The workers now faced a choice between two terrible options:  to stay home all year round, struggling to eek out an existence within an economic structure whose unfairness was deteriorating from despair to hopelessness, or to take the whole family and try to sneak into the U.S. and make it their permanent home.  The latter option became the choice of many.  Those who succeeded are now dubbed “illegal aliens.”

              What turned them into illegals?  It wasn’t that they started doing something evil.  It was that our laws changed.  Now, a dozen years later, those undocumented immigrants – a much better term – numbers in the millions.

              What are we to do about that?  Well, as the editorial suggests, we can rewrite those laws.  George W. Bush wanted to do so, but he ran into a buzz-saw of political opposition.  John McCain promised to do so if elected.  Barack Obama promised to do so, too.  But nothing has happened, in part because the president and the democratic congress have been pouring most all their energy into healthcare policy reform.  But they also have not done so because of a huge anti-immigrant hostility that has been fueled by a growing populist protectionism.

              That populist movement has joined together strange bedfellows.  “America First” patriots of the political right oppose immigrants largely out of a love for the values, traditions and principles they fear outsiders will disrupt.  Their loyalty to the rule of law is offended by any suggestion that some amnesty might be extended to those operating illegally in any sector of society.  On the other hand, labor unions oppose immigrants due to those immigrants’ willingness to accept lower wages, thereby endangering the wages of the workers they represent.  Again, those intentions are understandable and commendable.

              Fact is:  most of the strangers and aliens among us do not wish to operate outside the law.  They don’t want to be “illegals.” And most don’t really want to live here at all.  They would welcome a temporary worker status, thereby enabling them to spend the bulk of their time in the village or community they call home.

 
Here’s the real problem:  we are now caught in a bind.  As Christians we are commanded to love the aliens among us as we love ourselves.  But the law prohibits us from harboring aliens and being accomplices to their criminal status.  Our legislators know that many aspects of the tri-national economic policies adopted in the past two decades have created unintended consequences, but they are hard pressed to take action in the light of the concerns among their constituencies.  The rapid growth of the number of undocumented immigrants has become a huge mess to address, especially since our American respect for the rule of law gets offended by the thought of granting amnesty to lawbreakers.

              Any elected official who would try to rewrite our immigration policies to address such a challenge faces the same buzz-saw that caused George W. Bush to back away.

              It is in the light of those realities that I have suggested that we Christians do one simple thing:  write encourage our legislators to take some positive action.  We have within our power the ability to foster a grassroots movement that could at least counterbalance the movement that has been openly hostile toward immigrants .  We could let our leaders know that some folks in their congressional districts believe that we should love aliens and strangers as we love ourselves.



So, what about all those letters to the editor?

              Go back and read them.  I trust you can see that some of them were reacting and arguing against ideas far different from those stated or implied in the original editorial.

              A few more specific responses:

1. By all means a good immigration policy must require us to do background checks on those who would want to come here.  Interdiction of illegal drugs, terrorists, money laundering, criminals, etc., must be carried out to the full extent of the law.

2. Our immigration policy should take its cue not from the policies of other, more exclusive countries.  Rather it should be guided by the principles upon which this nation has been founded, which include the teachings of Scripture, democratic values, and the multicultural experience that has emerged from our being a nation of immigrants from places far and wide.

3. A general amnesty is not the answer.  In all I’ve written on the subject, I’ve never called for that, and frankly, I don’t know of anybody who has.  A program for registering guest workers would provide a big part of an answer (and would allow many to return to their home countries to make their primary residence there).  A program for welcoming family members of legal aliens would be a part of an answer.  The ultimate answer would involve the writing of necessarily complex legislation, given the complexity of all the issues involved.

4. Drawing a connection between this issue and that of protecting pre-born children is totally appropriate.  While folks in the church differ on the matter of pro-life vs. pro-choice, just as we do on matters around immigration,

“God alone is Lord of the conscience, and hath left it free from the doctrines and commandments of men which are in anything contrary to his Word, or beside it, in matters of faith or worship.” Therefore we consider the rights of private judgment, in all matters that respect religion, as universal and unalienable: We do not even wish to see any religious constitution aided by the civil power, further than may be necessary for protection and security, and at the same time, be equal and common to all others. (Book of Order, G-1.0301)

 

In the light of that, we all are duty-bound to stand up to the power of the government, choosing to obey God rather than the law of the land – when we believe they stand in conflict, which certainly includes policies regarding life and death decisions, including such matters as abortion, euthanasia, waging war, bearing arms for self-defense, and capital punishment.

              So, all of this is to say, go back and re-read that editorial.  And, yeah, reread the story of the birth of Christ – in a place that made no room for him, except that of a cow stall. And read about the Magi’s obedience of God that required them to defy Herod, thereby making themselves enemy aliens in the land. And read about Mary and Joseph’s escape and sojourn in Egypt, another foreign country, and imagine what they probably faced there.  No sentimentality here.  Rather a direct consideration of the coming of our Lord as a stranger and alien, by which we who were strangers and aliens “have been brought near by the blood of Christ…” so that we “are no longer strangers and aliens, but … citizens with the saints and also members of the household of God, built upon the foundation of the apostles and prophets, with Christ Jesus himself as the cornerstone. In him the whole structure is joined together and grows into a holy temple in the Lord; in whom you also are built together spiritually into a dwelling place for God” (from Eph. 2:11-21).

Fun to read Calvin defending his views on the Lord's Supper against the literalists (4.17.22 ff) who accused Calvin of being loose with Scripture. Calvin extols the need for interpretation rather than an impossible literal reading of "this is my body," etc.. Interesting in light of debate today on GLBT ordination. Calvin expresses his weariness in the attacks on his faithfulness and his scholarship. But literalists always accuse those who engage in thoughtful interpretation of faithlessness. Calvin notes: there is a certain comfort in literalism, but it ultimately asks us to believe a contradiction - specifically, Christ cannot be present physically to us in the Sacrament because he is in heaven, with the constraints of the flesh. He is present to us spiritually by the Holy Spirit. His careful interpretation was rejected by the literalists. They opted for the easy answer. I'm glad Calvin didn't! Beware the easy answer, especially when the answer shuts the door and bolts it tight against "those who don't belong."

A friend from long ago has left the PCUSA for the EPC, along with his congregation.

I sent a note wishing him well, in the hope that he will find peace in the EPC and be able to serve the Christ he knows in a manner consistent with the how the Spirit has shaped his soul.

Needless to say, I'm saddened by his decision and sympathetic with all the emotions.

Perhaps like a divorce, there's the temptation on the part of the one leaving to eliminate ambiguity and doubt - to justify the leaving and ease the conscience by an over-simplification: that God is the cause of this and the leaving is right, and the one left behind had it coming.

And for the one left behind, the same process tempts: to vilify and damn.

All such efforts fail to grasp the complexity of a divorce - and both must eventually face their own frailties and faults. There are no innocents abroad; all alike are sinners, saved by grace.

But Paul and Barnabas are helpful - they reached an impasse beyond human management, and apparently even beyond that of God, and before they did further harm to one another, they decided to go their separate ways.

I've always been thankful that the Book of Acts records this tragic, and oh-so-human, event.

It happens! And continues to happen throughout history, in church and in marriage, and virtually every other form of human relationship - there is a tragic element in our souls. Our love for one another can never quite rise all that high, and we mostly thrive on like-loving-like. 

Maybe that's the point of confession, but tragic or not, life goes on. Barnabas mostly disappears from the text; Paul proceeds to center-stage.

Was Paul right? Was Barnabas right?

Like most such questions, it's the wrong question to ask.

They had a deep and bitter disagreement about Mark. Barnabas wanted to forgive and include him; Paul couldn't forget Mark's desertion of them.

And so it goes.

I think it's time for us to admit our tragic character - that on the question of ordination for GLBT persons, we are unable to find a compromise: either we do, or we don't. There can be no half-way covenant on this one, or so it appears.

So, like Paul and Barnabas, we go our separate ways, before we do any more harm to one another, and who knows what life lies on the other side of the divide?

As much as my friend longs for the day when the debate is finished and he and his congregation can get on with the work of God as they see it, so I long for the day when I and the churches I've served can get on with our work, too - including the full acceptance and ordination of GLBT persons.

This issue has shaped most of my ministry (40 years this coming January) and has consumed enormous amounts of energy and money - all of which could have been spent more effectively on the ministries to which Jesus calls us.

I wish my friend well, and I'm sure he wishes the same for me.

It's time for us to get on with the work of Christ!

Until the next chapter, the next issue, the next whatever ... until Christ returns and brings the final healing for body and soul.

 

What would really happen if we cleared the way and began to ordain, without question, GLBT persons, who, like all the rest of those ordained, would answer the basic questions of faith in Christ and vow a willingness to work with their colleagues to promote the gospel and to stand for justice?

What would really happen?

Would it be the end of the world as we know it?

Would the Bible fall and cease to be an endless source of wonder and challenge, bewiderment and blessing? Would folks no longer turn to its pages to see a mirror in which the horrors and hopes of the human journey are reflected? Would the 23rd Psalm no longer sing in the heart? Would the ageless promises of God's faithfulness and love no longer thrill the beleagured soul and tired traveler?

Would the gospel cease to be of value? Would the cradle and the cross become meaningless? Would the Apostles' Creed no longer tease and torment the proud human soul with a vision of life and God beyond our silly presumptions and arrogance?

Would the truth of Christ crucified, buried and risen no longer hold the heart and spur the imagination of humankind? Would no one ever again stand in the temple and proudly assert their superiority, and would there never again be sinner beating the breast in sorrow?

Would people stop praying and singing and loving and serving?

Would women and men no longer be called to ministry? Would there be no more deacons and elders and pastors and priests and rabbis and imams?

Would folks stop writing theology? Would there be no more sermons? No more worship? No more love?

What would really happen?

 

Reading Calvin on baptism, I ponder something I've been working on for some years now - two "baptisms" - one related to circumcision - i.e. God's grace toward us, unmerited and unconditional; and John's baptism (given to the already-circumcized) as a reconfirmation and witness to others - as Calvin says, "our confession before men" (4.15.1). Two "baptisms" would, once and for all, bind together and affirm that which has divided Protestantism - infant vs. adult baptism. Why not both? Why not see them as one and the same, but with respect to their purpose, a difference: infant baptism is the sign and seal of God's favor toward us and our children; John's baptism is a confession, that we receive God's favor with joy, and with joy, bear witness of our life in Christ, confessing him as Lord and Savior, to the world. One baptism, but two dimensions appropriate to two stages in life: our infancy and a point in adulthood (I have never found confirmation to be adequate at this point) - I think John's baptism says it well: it's directed to adults and seeks, through their conscience, a conversion of both heart and life.

San Francisco Presbytery votes to ordain Lisa Larges, though it'll be on hold for awhile because of legal wrangling.

I'm relieved to hear this, and hats off to SF and to Lisa.

 Though for some in our ranks, this can mean nothing but sorrow.

Where and how shall we work it out?

That we can have unity only when we have diversity is the nature of unity. Without diversity, all we would have is uniformity, and uniformity requires very little of us.

Our Lord recognizes this when he admonishes us to love "our enemies" - a pivotal reminder that only love can create unity, with the subtext - that uniformity is no big deal in the kingdom of God. Even tax collectors and such enjoy that.

So, how do we love "our enemies."

I put the phrase in quotes, because I think there's a slight chance of some tongue-in-cheek here - those whom we might otherwise label as "enemy" may turn out to be something quite different when and if we open our hearts to them in love.

Love discovers things that suspicion and fear will never see.

Love is more than tolerance, then. Love builds up (1 Corinthians 8:1).

It is our sinful instincts to huddle with like-minded. We all do it, and it's fun.

But at that point, as cozy as we might be, we're no different than the world and we can offer to the world nothing more than what the world already knows - the power of a gated community.

Our gift to the world, if, indeed, we have one, is more than our theology, but our way of life. Yes, our theology counts, but I think our way of life counts just as much, because faith comes by hearing, but it's our good works that enable someone to give glory to God (Matthew 5:16).

We've done rather well, I suppose, in the theology department, and putting all of our apples in that basket, we've forgotten the power of ethical witness, and, if anything, we've engaged in all the dirty back-biting and squabbling found in the local PTA or some condominium association (my apologies to both).

What does love mean?

And what does it mean for me to love my GLBT friends and to support their efforts for ordination?

And what does it mean for me to love a colleague who opposes that ordination with the same passion I muster for it's promotion?

 Big questions ...

Any answers out there?