the Outlook Blog

I have some friends, and mostly we see eye-to-eye on the issues of life.

But that hasn't always been the case.

I've had good friends who stood in a place quite different than I did. Most of those friendships were brief, but some have endured for years.

I've tried to think through what those enduring friendships have been like, and why they endured in spite of differing takes on things.

In some respects, we simply liked each other, and respected each other's integrity - that we worked at hard at what we believed, and we sought to live our lives faithfully in and through the love of Christ.

And while we might kid the daylights out of one another, our conversations were marked with a lot of listening and "I understand your point of view a little more clearly now."

I've learned that it's possible to understand someone's point of view and still not agree, but it's harder to vilify someone when you understand and respect them.

In terms of my friendships, understanding and respect came from a lot of early-morning breakfasts with ham and eggs and lots of coffee. "Okay, I'll see ya' again in two weeks." And looking back, humor played a huge roll as well - jokes and banter were as important as the ham and eggs.

In reality, I think such friendships are rare. Mostly, we hang around with those who stand in our corner. Makes sense. We like those who like what we like.

But Jesus reminds us that such friendship, or love, is no big deal. What's really a big deal is "loving our enemies."

I think Jesus chooses the word "enemy" to make something clear to us - that love can be far and beyond similarities and commonalities, and that such love is deeply ethical in how we view and treat one another.

I hold my convictions firmly - I guess that's what makes them convictions. But I've enjoyed the honest criticism of others who hold their convictions with equal firmness. But when we "love our enemy," we refuse to make the final move - that "I'm right and you're wrong." A friendship of differing views can endure when we bow before the mystery of God's grace and love - that we're both servants of the Most High God, both driven by honest and Spirit-impelled motives. Though our instincts want to bring closure to the argument, "You're wrong; I'm right!", we refuse to make that final move.

And with that, I've enjoyed some remarkable friendships over the years.

But can this be translated into an entire denomination where practices are at stake?

Where the question of ordination is on the table?

To be or not to be?

There are sane and reasonable voices who yet champion more conversation and better listening. 

And while that might make for interesting conversations over ham and eggs, it hardly helps us out of the impasse of practice - to ordain LGBT persons or not.

Yet others who say, "The time for listening is done. We have listened to one another, and we understand one another. We're just in different places."

My heart aches for my LGBT friends, and when someone (usually straight) suggests that we need more time, I usually think, "Well, that's easy for YOU to say."

I offer no answers here.

Anyone who has read my previous postings know that I'm short on answers for our current situation.

Local option?

Gracious separation?

While I might enjoy friendships with folks of other persuasions, and benefit from lively discussion, I'm still left, as they are, with the question of practice.

And that's the divide for the denomination.

As I see it. 

Writing this occasional blog is like jumping into a lake at midnight - one never knows whether the water is cold or warm - I never know who's going to read and who's going to comment.

Over the last few months, it's been fun to read what others have added - both pro and con.

I appreciate anyone who takes the time to read what's written and offer comment, even it represents a point of view diametrically different than mine.

People care, that's for sure.

I wish I had some answers.

Is there a way out of the pool? So we can dry off and relax ... and get better acquainted? Go have a drink somewhere and tell tall tales?

These are tough issues, and we have in our Christianized bones, especially our Reformation bones, the desire to prove one another wrong, and in so doing, even raising serious questions about one another's integrity.

I know. I've done i myselft, and I've been the target of it.

Last year, I read Calvin's Institutes - for the fourth time in my lifetime  (that, and five bucks gets me coffee at Starbucks)- fun to read how a 16th Century theologian went after his enemies: the Roman Catholic hierarchy and the Anabaptists - no names spared, no punches pulled. Flat-out fist-fight!

But in the end, while I tend to agree with Calvin on most points, it's clear - we can and we will all quote Scripture at one another forever, along with all the appropriate theological notes, and when the dust settles, we won't be one step ahead of the other, and no nearer agreement.

So it goes, I guess.

I stand with my LBGT sisters and brothers and their desire for ordination and marriage equality.

I trust a number of scholars who have done the biblical work on this, and I'm satisfied with my faith at this point in time.

As others are satisfied with theirs.

I guess we can keep on writing and talking, and praying - not for one another, because those sorts of prayers tend to be self-serving, but praying for ourselves, that we'll have clarity, the courage of our convictions and charity of heart toward one another.

Ecclesiologically, I'm ready for local option (G.6.106b removed) and local congregations and/or presbyteries making their own decisions, but in the long run, I think gracious separation might do us all good. Local option would only deepen the confusion and the likelihood of the tug-of-war continuing.

When it comes to ordination, a group, a fellowship, a denomination, needs uniformity, I believe, so that those ordained can move freely from church to church and Presbytery to Presbytery.

Though the UCC seems to have worked out local option with some success (can anyone comment on this?). 

Well, enough meandering for now.

Maybe other readers will choose to weigh in with their thoughts.

In advance, thanks! And keep up the good work!

According to The Layman, I am everything that's wrong with the Presbyterian Church. My theology is apostate, my ethics are hideous; apparently, I have given up on Jesus Christ years ago, I have abandoned Scripture, thrown out the baby with the bathwater, and I am leading the church down the road to perdition.

Strange.

I got up this morning, brushed my teeth and shaved. I read a book and read my Bible. I worked on the July 4 message and will prepare the liturgy later today, a day late, because I've been home with a nasty cold - no doubt, some form of punishment for my wicked ways.

I love my children and they love me.

I love my wife, and she puts up with me, and that's miracle enough for any day.

I have friends, new and old, and I constantly receive notes from folks, via Facebook and the mail, thanking me for my ministry - a very humbling thing, of course, because any minister worth her salt realizes that it's grace, and grace alone, that enables us to touch a person's life with hope.

But I'm the enemy, according to The Layman, and I'm responsible for the decline of the Presbyterian Church the last 50 years.

When I think about it, that's a pretty serious charge, and I've given it some thought. I've granted to The Layman over the years the benefit of the doubt, and I've tried to listen to their concerns.

From my point of view, there's enough blame to go around, and who can blame anyone for the vast cultural changes affecting our world.

I don't think it's a question of blame?

I think it's a question of opportunity. Look, things have always been in flux, and there have been times of social prosperity for the church (history makes painfully clear that social prosperity doesn't always equate faithfulness) and times of displacement. So, what's the big deal?

Didn't Paul counsel Timothy to preach the gospel, in season and out of season? I think if we spent far less time blaming the other guy and simply did our best, as God has laid it upon our hearts, we'd be a far healthier voice to the world.

Oops, I forgot. We'd still have to make justice decisions, wouldn't we? Especially with regard to our LGBT sisters and brothers, and corporate greed and investment policies and militarism and war and poverty and education. As long as some want to keep the door closed to LGBT persons, I work to get it open, all the way. 

Anyway, I'm trying to figure out what "an enemy" looks and feels like. 

I feel pretty friendly this morning. And aside from a little weight I'd be happy to lose, I look pretty good, too.

So, I don't know what "the enemy" feels and looks like. Guess I'll have to read The Layman a little bit more. 

It's been awhile since I've blogged ... been busy, preoccupied with a son heading off the Peace Corps and generally uninspired with all things Presbyterian ... until today, and the latest (GA) issue of the Presbyterian Layman.

The one good thing about the Layman is it never disappoints! Never!

But, then, maybe I don't either.

They are what they are, predictably,  and I suppose I'm just as predictable.

Though there was a time when I was a bit more sympathetic with their theological interests.

But I've softened over the years. Some might say that I've gone soft in the head.

Whatever ... though I'm very glad to be where I am these days.

As I read the latest Layman, I heard a desperation I've not heard before, but maybe it's just my imagination.

I think this GA is seen as a Waterloo of sorts - it happens here, and it happens now - in the mind of the Layman, the church will either turn toward faithfulness or finalize its march into apostasy, as defined by the Layman.

Who knows what this year's GA will be like, but I hope for more open doors and windows, theologically and ethically. 

I guess one person's faithfulness is another's apostasy. Go figure ...! 

With the stats in, and so-called "conservative" churches experiencing either a shrinking or a slowing of numbers, the old saw of the last 40 years no longer holds up so conclusively: that liberal churches are declining and conservative churches growing.

Even in the best of times, this claim never had much substance, but was surely used by conservatives to batter their liberal sisters and brothers, becoming a source of pride, even as they danced over the grave of denominationalism. And was, at the same time, an occasion for denominational types to wring their hands in embarrassment and begin backbiting and blaming. 

The latest Christianity Today (June, 2010) carries a fascinating article, "Life in Those Old Bones," reminding us that denominationalism is very much a human dynamic, because we like to hang together, so to speak, and that denominationalism offers resources and strength for mission.

Even for "independent" churches, the need to cooperate and work together is evident in something like the Willow Creek Association, with more than 11,000 member churches in 35 countries and 90 denominations. Functioning much as a denomination, the WCA offers support, curriculum, training and mission opportunities.

Ed Stetzer says: "... denomination-like networks will, I believe, become more like denominations than networks in the years to come, just like the networks of the past (e.g. Methodists) are denominations today."

While writing from a conservative perspective, Stetzer notes the ability of denominations to weather storms and guide troubled congregations. Independent congregations can easily fall apart in tough times; the American landscape is littered with the debris of independent congregations that foundered on theological issues or the failure of leadership.

Paraphrasing Winston Churchill, Stetzer notes: "Denominations are the worst way to cooperate - except for all the others."

"Denominations at their best are not places to get something but places to give and to serve."

With regard to missionaries, Stetzer notes: denominationally funded missionaries are able to spend the bulk of their time in mission, while those who need to raise their own funds are driven to spend less time in the field and more time raising funds.

A healthy denomination, says Stetzer, is "a home, not a prison."

Who can say what the future holds, but God's people always migrate toward one another in various forms and fashions to do a better job in mission. We are called to love one another, and that's never an affective word, but an ethical word - to love is stand with one another for a purpose greater than ourselves.

I love the Presbyterian Church - the church of my ordination - given to me by women and men who trusted me, believing that I would handle with care the legacy bestowed.

I haven't always been as clear as I am now. There was a time when I saw our failures and our faults too clearly. While those faults and failures remain, as they do with all of us, I see more clearly today the goodness and the joy of community within which we live and enjoy and sometimes despair over our diversity.

For me, I'm grateful for Louisville and our systems. We get a lot done. We're on the spot when it comes to crises like Haiti's earthquake. We still plant churches, we train pastors, and we're working overtime to figure out the times in which we live.

Hats off to my Presbyterian sisters and brothers. God will continue to give us a future, because being together is still God's way.

Been doing a little reading in C67, and I haven't done for a long time.

What a remarkable document, especially the material on reconciliation.

Jesus said, "You are the salt of the earth" and "the light of the world."

And that's what C67 is all about.

In 1967, in my second year of seminary in Holland, Michigan, my folks lived in Grand Rapids. I remember being home one occasion and my father noting a full-page ad in the Grand Rapids Press lamenting C67 and its threat to the church.

I don't recall any more than that, and at the time, it didn't make a huge impression on me, but over the years, I've recalled that moment.

I suppose folks have always been concerned when a new confession was making its appearance. After all, a new statement most always takes us to some unexplored territory and puts a twist on things so that we can see the world in a slightly different way and discover previously hidden dimensions to our place in the world as followers of Jesus Christ.

Anyway, for what's worth, I'd recommend C67 ... read it slowly and read it often ... and, of course, read it critically, as we would any such document.

And take to heart its message of reconciliation, a pledge every Elder, Deacon and Minster of Word and Sacrament takes upon ordination - to work for the reconciliation of the world. 

Beaver-Butler is sending an overture to GA to allow "theological, non-geographic" Presbyteries, in order to promote a greater flexibility in government and to stem the tide of congregations leaving the denomination.

In January of this year, the Presbytery of the Pacific defeated a similar motion.

I've thought long and hard about this, and I said to the proponents, "I'd be willing to vote favorably on this if you were willing to send an overture to GA for the removal of G6.106b, thus allowing both groups to proceed with their agendas. 

If we are to be a church truly flexible, then let's go for it.

But my friend said, "Oh no, the evangelicals would never go for the removal of G6.106b."

In other words, putting it crassly, they want their cake, but won't let me have mine. 

As I thought about this, it occurred to me that allowing for non-geographical Presbyteries could well allow for the formation of a half-dozen new Presbyteries, each able to send overtures to GA, vote on overtures sent down, and POSSESS THE POWER TO DISMISS CONGREGATIONS!

Am I being cynical?

Perhaps, but I've learned to be cautious - for years now, I have felt that leaving the denomination is a high priority, and similar in priority is crafting devices to keep their property.

A non-geographical presbytery, once formed, could hold but one meeting and then dismiss, carte blanche, all of its churches to the EPC, or whatever status they so desire. 

I believe the assertion of theological interests is less than honest here. It's not about theology, but about practice, and for the majority of evangelicals in our ranks, it's about denying ordination to GLBT persons.

Even as I seek a change in our constitution to grant ordination to whomever gives evidence of a calling and can pass the tests leading to ordination.

We've all done our theological work; now, it's a question of practice.

I've written previously about the coming time when the respective theological camps of our church will sign the papers, break up the house, and form their own new homes.

It may yet come to that.

And it may be the only way to prevent further harm.

But everyone must realize that "gracious separation," no matter how gracious it be, is still a separation, and, thus, a failure of love. We cannot love one another, and why it should be so is profoundly complex, I'm sure. But complexity aside, we cannot love one another.

Someone might said, "Oh, but of course, we can love one another. We just can't live together any longer." 

But love is love - it's not just some distant sentiment - it's the enjoyment of one another, and the realization of mutual need; it's the discipline of staying together in the face of difficulty.

These thoughts are prompted by my reading this morning in Jacob Needleman's book, What is God?". On page 133, while discussing "rationalists" and "empiricists," he suggests that Kant's position helps these respective groups "find their own true place - a sure sign that a higher reconciliation has been achieved. The true reconciling force," writes Needleman, "never destroys, it always preserves and rescues the truth of both previous 'adversaries' [bold, mine].

 Neither side compromises, but through a "higher reconciliation," each side finds its place, as each recognizes the inherent truth in one another.

Gracious separation and moving away, or some kind of in-house separation, with non-geographic Presbyteries or Synods, only demonstrates our inability to find ways to talk to one another and, perhaps, talk our way through.

Having said that, I'm clear that our current distress is more than just theological discourse, but practice.

As one conservative said to me, "We'd just like to have a place where we can hold to our theology."

I replied, "But it's more than theology. It's practice, and the heart of the practical question is ordination for GLBT persons, and for me, it's a question of justice."

There were those in the years leading up to the Civil War who wanted to maintain theological discussion, but there were others who saw the condition of slave-labor and said, "It must cease."

For me, discrimination against GLBT persons must cease!

For others, the bar against ordination of GLBT persons must remain in place.

How do our respective camps work our way through this?

Think again of the Civil War. Abolition for the Union, or States' Rights for the South? 

Our nation fought a war over it, and we may yet sign the papers of separation and divorce. 

Yet, we all must pause and think.

I have no answers, but to invite us to share together whenever we can and maintain mutual prayers. 

Been thinking a lot about Genesis 15, since I preached from it Feb. 28.

Been thinking about the small promises of God - God promises Abram a bleak 400 years of slavery for his descendants, and though God will rescue them at the right time and bring them to the land, there's no promise here of bliss, but only of life.

Abram, at least, is promised a long life and a peaceable death.

God's promises are small, but real ... more real than all the bloated, artificial, self-seeking, egotistical, manipulative, fear-driven, promises of our world - buy this, get this, do this, be like this, and you will ... (fill in the blank).

Been also wondering why Christians have bloated the promises of God.

Pop christian music is particularly bloated ...

TV preachers are pretty bloated, too ... and hungry for our money.

How many good and decent preachers have stood in a pulpit, compelled (by what forces?) to offer bloated promises, "If only we give our life to Christ - then, by golly, our teeth will whiten, we'll lose weight, popularity issues will be resolved, employment and promotion will come our way, parking places will magically appear while our godless neighbors have to circle the block endlessly, like some bizarre scene out of Dante's Purgatory ... while others die in freeway crashes and airplane accidents, our guardian angel will shelter us. Our kids will grow up to be successful; we'll live in a beautiful home in the right part of town. We'll be free of illness, and if you should get sick (silly me!), Jesus will heal you. And, then, when we die, off to heaven we go. All we need to do is ...."

What is up with this?

Are not the real promises of God good enough?

Reading Jim Wallis' Rediscovering Values: On Wall Street, Main Street, and Your Street.

Makes me wonder: Where has the church been the last 50 years?

What kinds of questions have we been asking of ourselves? Of our politicians and our financial captains?

Have we been asking questions at all?

Or have we retreated into our theological havens, our self-help retreat centers, our feel-good-and-be-prosperous  church growth stategies?

Have we offered a creed without a conscience? 

Jesus without justice?

Heaven without earth? 

A spirituality without a witness to the culture?

Have we been so preoccupied with numbers and buildings and programs and projects that we have missed the heart of the gospel?

If any of the above questions can be answered, in full or in part, with a yes, then we have failed, and our failure is part and parcel of our nation's plunge into economic chaos.

Whether we have been liberal or conservative, the tide of culture has weakened the church, turning the church into a little afternoon tea-party or Monday-night pub discussions about supralapsarianism. 

Conservatives have sought refuge in bedroom theology and politics; liberals have found similar refuge in various causes - but all of us have been afraid to ask the deep questions so badly needed by our nation.

We have winked at the accumulation of wealth without restraint; we have blessed the stock market with a carte blanch; we have made happiness the supreme goal of life; we have lost our sense of the common good, and are morally adrift on Pinocchio's Pleasure Island - which, by the way, is a parable of the times in which we have lived for the last 50 years!

Where and how has the church failed to ask the good questions needed to keep our nation's moral compass rightly calibrated?

How have we failed to be the salt of the earth and the light of the world?

If we've failed, there is sufficient fault to go around - neither the conservative nor the liberal wings of the church can claim exemption.

I look forward to some comment here, and let it be confessional, not accusatory.