tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-49173823553455075202024-03-20T06:12:16.359-07:00Outside the City GateJamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13091376561692615720noreply@blogger.comBlogger334125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4917382355345507520.post-89809641557739591962024-03-20T05:22:00.000-07:002024-03-20T06:11:44.850-07:00Grief is holy<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTxIW-BmevmytsPRT8I8yF9VvwRKF0fjkGxY8v7A5hxqtYq7nw17_VBuzgoe9m26wzGQ0xA-gMl7DPG0AJDME12zgExKHKMQV9rPkGHMB51QX6It3R-ahPcrt5vOX-S_tIjEjuo6r2HykrRAU-Hd0XXz7X5D0Y8HslyQeVXg_w88slsR8J48P3Hp6-3C8/s1036/IMG_1579.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1036" data-original-width="960" height="247" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTxIW-BmevmytsPRT8I8yF9VvwRKF0fjkGxY8v7A5hxqtYq7nw17_VBuzgoe9m26wzGQ0xA-gMl7DPG0AJDME12zgExKHKMQV9rPkGHMB51QX6It3R-ahPcrt5vOX-S_tIjEjuo6r2HykrRAU-Hd0XXz7X5D0Y8HslyQeVXg_w88slsR8J48P3Hp6-3C8/w229-h247/IMG_1579.jpeg" width="229" /></a></div><br />It's been a while since I did anything with this page. For the last 15 or 20 years, I discovered that I processed through writing, but life got busy and time for that became less. <p></p><p>Yesterday, my wife lost her mom. She was the matriarch of the family, friend to countless people, Momma, Grandmommy, Gaga, sister, wife, and as the saying goes, the glue that holds the family together. We are all broken-hearted, and we grieve, but as resurrection people, not as those without hope. </p><p>As I laid down to go to sleep last night, a thought hit me...grief is holy. Let me explain. </p><p>We grieve much because we love much, correct? I think we can all agree on that. If we grieve because we love, and if God is love, then God also grieves with us. If God grieves, and if God is holy, then, by extension, I feel safe in saying that grief is a holy experience. </p><p>At the death of Lazarus, Jesus wept. He didn't pontificate. He didn't offer platitudes. He didn't pat the folks in the crowd on the shoulder and say, "This is part of God's plan." He wept. Jesus, the Second Person of the Trinity, the Firstborn of all creation, the Prince of Peace simply wept. He grieved the loss of a very close friend. It was a holy moment. </p><p>Now, I understand that in times like our family is experiencing right now, and that your family has experienced as well, it's not easy to find any amount of comfort or peace. We are way too human to be expected to find anything else. Grief is a very human emotion, and very much merited when someone we love enters the church triumphant. Yet, there they are. Standing in the background, quietly off to the side, peace and comfort are watching and waiting for just the right moment to walk up and put a hand around our shoulders. For me, that moment hit when I went to bed last night. </p><p>It had been a very long day. We've known this was coming for over a year, but didn't think it would come this soon. I've been distracted at work this week, and it showed. Steph, my wife, had been with her mom as much as possible for the last 10 days, hoping against hope that the doctors were wrong and that mom would rally. She had gone home to take a quick nap when her sister called me. I dropped my tools, closed the doors at the job site, and headed home to tell her. As I sat beside her on the bed and whispered, "Mom's gone," what I saw was holy grief. She wept, as any of us would, and she grieved much because she loved much. Still, it was a holy moment. God draws near to the broken-hearted. </p><p>To a grieving family, folk will say things like, "You know heaven is celebrating today." I get the sentiment, I respect what they're trying to do, but it's not helpful. Heaven may be celebrating, but we're not. And, do you know what? That's ok. It's ok to hold on to our humanity during times like this, even though, as the saying goes, we are spiritual bodies having a physical experience. It's ok to allow grief to flood over us as we say goodbye to someone we love. It's ok to weep, uncontrollably even. It's ok to ask hard questions, like; "Why?' or "Why her?" or "Why now?" or even "God, why did you let this happen?" Yes, we are people of the resurrection. Yes, we have the hope of eternal life. But, and please hear this, we don't know anything about those things from personal experience. What we do know, is that someone we love will never pick up the phone and call us again, and in our case, Steph's mom will never make her famous beefaroni again, or her Christmas lasagna, and that hurts. </p><p>Now, to every coin there are two sides. Grief is holy, but grief is not part of God's plan. At least, I don't think it is. And I know, with every fiber in my being, that it is not part of some perfect plan. I'm convinced, and I may be wrong, but I'm convinced that in the first days of creation, God did not plan for us to grieve. God planned and created the day and night, the fish of the sea, stars of the sky, sun, moon, animals, plants of the land, and finally us, but I haven't read in that account where grief was figured in. Perhaps it's there and I just missed it. However, after the fall, grief and loss found their place in the world. </p><p>As a pastor, theologian, husband, father, and now grieving son-in-law, I ask this one thing of any who would offer their condolences, now or at any time in the future. Don't say it. Just don't. I know you mean well, I know your intentions are pure, but please don't say things to us, or any grieving family, like "You have to accept this as part of God's perfect plan." No, we don't. I cannot believe this feeling was part of some original, divine plan. Or, "God needed her/him more than you did." No, God didn't. We need them here with us, at least for a little longer. We need to hear their voice, hug their neck, or drink coffee with them. Please don't say, "God knows best." I don't argue that theologically, but contextually it doesn't hold water. Please don't say, "God needed another flower for his garden." No. God didn't. If God was able to speak the entire world into creation, God could do the same with one more flower in the garden. In fact, you don't have to say anything. Just be there. Be that peace and comfort standing off to the side, just waiting for the right moment to slip an arm around a grieving child's shoulders. Just hold them and let them weep. Be a safe space for them to be honest with the things they're feeling; with the unknowns, the pain, the anger, the denial. Allow them the space to process as they are able. </p><p>Why? Because I feel that is exactly what God would do. Weep with us. That's all we ask. And, actually, God, in the person of Jesus, did just that. </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Jamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13091376561692615720noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4917382355345507520.post-77042605062706890122023-01-22T14:32:00.013-08:002023-01-23T09:26:47.797-08:00As for me and my house...<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8siQwTQmhYr37A525tC4k_LbPRg_3dEsvRNXj2fWdJzzsTupedtqerzEynxfZ4Pn9teTKT1igN3vB3XLR55hKpjRiQzqt6RGgtl7DkbKcS7B22JrZkeKJeNZdctjeslDd6t2jcpfs2SSrcpkiaU3mj_iwk8N9UAWacOmb0Guv3UKfEy4fiG-jBbFf/s660/FD2E7B3B-3A5E-4F29-AB73-D349AC40ED63.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="457" data-original-width="660" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8siQwTQmhYr37A525tC4k_LbPRg_3dEsvRNXj2fWdJzzsTupedtqerzEynxfZ4Pn9teTKT1igN3vB3XLR55hKpjRiQzqt6RGgtl7DkbKcS7B22JrZkeKJeNZdctjeslDd6t2jcpfs2SSrcpkiaU3mj_iwk8N9UAWacOmb0Guv3UKfEy4fiG-jBbFf/w325-h265/FD2E7B3B-3A5E-4F29-AB73-D349AC40ED63.jpeg" width="325" /></a></div><br />Have you ever had a friend, family member, or someone else you genuinely cared for who was about to do something that you knew was going to be painful, but there was nothing you could do but watch and hope for the best? If you have ever experienced that, you have a basic understanding of how it feels to be clergy in the United Methodist Church right now. <p></p><p>Unless you've been living under a rock for the last couple of years, you've no doubt heard about the mess that is currently going on inside the United Methodist Church. Some folks are saying we're splitting, but we're not. We are, however, splintering, and the splintering is leaving shrapnel stuck in people I know and love. </p><p>I am one of those life-long United Methodists. When dad was discharged from the army and mom and dad moved back here from Columbia, South Carolina, I was a mere nine months old. The cross and flame is all I've ever known. When Steph and I married, we embarked on a journey to find "our" church; not mine, not hers, but ours. We went to mine for a while, a little country UMC. We went to hers for a while, a small town southern baptist church. We had plans of visiting others. Her church turned me away from the communion table one day and I told my new bride, "I'm going back to my people and I'd love for you to come with me." She did. That was 30 years ago. </p><p>Five or six years later, I had an experience one night coming home from a fishing trip. A few days later, after I got home from work, I sat there reading the newspaper, folded it up and put it in my lap. Then I looked at my wife, and mother of my daughter, and said, "I have to go back to school." She said, "Oh yeah? What for this time?" I looked at her, not believing the words were even coming out of my mouth, and said, "I think I need to go to seminary." </p><p>"To be a preacher?"</p><p>"Yeah. I think this is something I'm supposed to do." </p><p>"Then I will follow you wherever this leads."</p><p>So, at 28 years old, in 1999, I wasn't only a member of this denomination, I was about to begin the journey into ordained ministry as a United Methodist clergy. I began the process, and in 2011 was ordained as an elder in full connection. I have served small country churches. I have served county seat churches. I have served large churches. A few years ago I cut back to part time, we bought a house in our home town, and I decided that my girls had lived in their last parsonage. Now, I'm serving part time and believe this is where God wants me for this season in my life. So, as I said before, this is all I've ever known. </p><p>Now, to the mess. </p><p>"Disafilliation." It's a word that's on everyone's mind right now who calls themselves United Methodist. It has recently found its way into the church I love and am currently serving. When a church begins the conversations about leaving the denomination, that leaves the clergy appointed to serve that church having to decide what they are going to do. Are they going to leave the denomination and stay with that church? Are they going to leave that church and stay with the denomination? It's a painful decision to make and one that must be done prayerfully, considering what is best for the kingdom and our own families. </p><p>See, United Methodist clergy are not like Baptist clergy or Church of Christ clergy. We are not hired by the local church. We are sent by the Bishop to serve a particular community through a particular congregation. We are appointed (sent) one year at a time, and each summer, either reappointed to that congregation, or sent to another one. It's a system with its advantages and disadvantages, and some days, it's flawed at best. But, it's a wonderful way to mix the gifts and graces of each pastor and each congregation. </p><p>That being said, I, like several of my colleagues, find ourselves in a state of limbo. We want to remain faithful to our calling, and now we're just waiting and watching for God to let us know how that's going to play out. We love the congregations we are serving, but we can only serve them as long as they remain United Methodist, or... we surrender our credentials and leave the denomination. We have to choose. Let me just tell you from personal experience, that is a gut wrenching decision to have to make. </p><p>It's gut wrenching because it doesn't have to be like this. Because of personal agendas, strong personal opinions, false information, a myriad of "what if"s, and good ol' American individualism, no one is asking what is best for the kingdom of God in all of this. It's only about what I want as an individual. Churches are being split. Witnesses are being damaged. The world is being proven right about the "C"hurch in many instances because selfishness is leading many of these decisions. Conversations are being had in our parking lots, behind closed doors, and in secret, and it is causing damage that only the Holy Spirit can heal. </p><p>In the words of Paul, my brothers and sisters, this should not be so. </p><p>Hopefully, it is not too late for the church I love and am currently serving. Hopefully, we can see that we are better together. Hopefully, we can become the home for all of the United Methodists in our county who did not want to leave the denomination, but their churches had the 2/3 vote anyhow. But if not...?</p><p>Well, if not... I have a decision to make. No, my wife and I have a decision to make. </p><p>It reminds me of Joshua 24, and this may get me into trouble because someone, somewhere, is going to read my next few lines the wrong way. </p><p>In Joshua 24, Joshua has gathered all the tribes together and begins to tell them what God is saying to them. If you flip over to Joshua 24:1 and read through verse 13, you get a good list of all the things God had done for the people of Israel. Then in verse 14, God throws down the gauntlet: </p><p>"Now, therefore, revere the Lord and serve him in sincerity and in faithfulness; put away the gods that your ancestors served beyond the River and in Egypt and serve the Lord. Now if you are unwilling to serve the Lord, choose this day whom you will serve, whether the gods your ancestors served in the region beyond the River or the gods of the Amorites in whose land you are living, but as for me and my household, we will serve the Lord." </p><p>Now... before anyone starts throwing things or calling my bishop, allow me to tell you why that's the verse that came to me when I began to write today. </p><p>We have become distracted. We have lost our focus. And by "we," I mean many in the United Methodist Church. We are not necessarily serving the gods of our ancestors or the gods of the Ammorites, but the gods we are serving are our own wants and desires and our own agendas. In short, the gods we are serving in all of this, is ourselves. </p><p>Some disafilliate over the issue of homosexuality, but don't want to talk about the numerous scriptures about second marriages leading to adultery. We want to point out the speck in others' eyes without paying one iota of attention to the log in our own. We want to judge others as long as no one brings up our pet sins. Etc. Etc. Etc. </p><p>My brothers and sisters, this should not be so. </p><p>After Jesus had left the Mount of Olives one day and was teaching in the temple, a group of angry men dragged a woman who had been caught in the very act of adultery to him. How did he react? They knew how they wanted him to react, but how did he react? "Let the one who has never sinned throw the first stone." What happened? One by one, they quietly slipped away until there was no one left but she and he. "Where are your accusers? Didn't even one of them condemn you?"</p><p>"No, Lord," she said.</p><p>"Neither do I. Go and sin no more."</p><p>As for me and my household, we have decided that there are way bigger things to be upset about. We have decided that it is not our place to judge others because we cannot throw stones either. We have struggled, prayed, and cried, trying to decide where we feel God may be calling us next. With 23,000 people starving to death in the world every day (approximately) and the church arguing over the things we're arguing over, we (the Church) have left our one true love. </p><p>Adding to that the fact that many of the churches that are disaffiliating are doing so because they have been fed false information, forced onto them by some with an agenda, just makes it even worse. Folks aren't even leaving over legitimate reasons.</p><p>What's the answer? I honestly don't know. Folks are going to leave. Folks are going to stay. But that's the beauty of being a Wesleyan people; we don't have to think alike to love alike. </p><p>So, if disafilliation is a conversation you are having, I implore you to listen past the rhetoric, gossip, half truths, and blatant lies for that still small voice of God calling to you through the chaos and inviting you to step away for some quiet conversation. </p><p>As for me and my house... we're United Methodist. </p><p> </p>Jamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13091376561692615720noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4917382355345507520.post-19859351702197483552021-12-16T06:13:00.002-08:002021-12-16T06:13:19.482-08:00After the storm <p> It’s been 6 days now since our little corner of the world was turned completely upside down. The initial assessments have been made. Debris is being cleared. Rescue and recovery have been going nonstop. Volunteers have come in by the droves to assist us and help where they can. Water and electric are being restored. Donations are continuing to pour in, and for all of this I am grateful. </p><p>This morning, I woke up with heat and lights for the first time since Friday morning. Like so many others, I’m experiencing a certain amount of survivor’s remorse because we were so close to the main path, but relatively unscathed. This has caused no small amount of theological wrestlings and reflection. So, as I’ve done for years, permit me a few minutes to process all this through my keyboard. </p><p>Why? Why did the storm track shift a little less than a half mile from what we were expecting? The original track was taking the tornado directly over our house, instead, it came by less than a half mile to our south and east. </p><p>How? Surviving this storm was certainly not because of anything I did. No one can stand against winds knocking on 200 plus miles per hour. I did everything I knew to do in order to protect my family, but short of installing an underground bunker, there was really nothing I could do. It seemed to be the luck of the draw, and even typing that makes my stomach turn. </p><p>As we listened to tornado rip through neighborhoods and downtown as it passed our house, my first thought was “Thank God. We survived.” It was all I could think to do. Now for the theological reflection. </p><p>Paul, writing to the church in Thessalonica told them to give thanks in all things, because that was the will of God. (Paraphrased). We should. Sort of. </p><p>A lot of people are struggling with the events of last Friday night, and rightfully so. I’m struggling with it. I do give thanks for many things that did or didn’t happen last weekend, like so many others are right now, and I do believe that there is much, for which, to be thankful. However, there is one phrase I keep hearing that haunts me. </p><p>“I’m thankful that God protected me.” I appreciate the sentiment behind statements like that, but I’d like to take a minute to unpack some of the theology in it. </p><p>“I’m thankful that God protected me,” alludes to the idea that God picks and chooses who receives protection and who doesn’t. We don’t mean anything by it when we say things like that, other then genuinely offering thanksgiving that we’re still here. I totally get that. I would encourage us to reflect what it says to others, though. </p><p>As I came out of our hallway after the immediate threat had passed, I stopped and said “Thank you.” Meanwhile, in the couple minutes it took to pass by us, lives were lost not a half mile away. The thought of that is gut wrenching. If I were to say I was thankful God protected me, it would insinuate a divine hand redirecting the path of the storm away from my house, and directly over others. I can’t serve a God who does that. I just can’t. A god who picks and chooses who survives and doesn’t is not worthy of our worship. </p><p>It was just a fluke of nature that I’m even here to write this morning. </p><p>That being said, theology is messy. Part of the curse of a theological education is that, in our training, we are forced to recognize and wrestle with things of this very nature. The “Why?” questions. The “How?” questions. And, to do so in a way that honors our God and our fellow humans. </p><p>So, for all those who feel this week that God’s hand of protection has been removed, let me assure you that God’s heart is breaking right along with yours this morning. Nature is a brutal force at times, and were God to directly intervene, saving some while others perished, the theological ramifications would be endless. </p><p>The sucky part in all this is that there just aren’t any easy answers. A friend of mine said something yesterday that stopped me in my tracks. He said, again paraphrasing, “God wasn’t in the disaster, but lives in the response of the people to the disaster.” </p><p>This week I encourage all of us to find something in the aftermath of this storm for which to be thankful. I encourage us to let empathy guide our words and actions. </p><p>God is here. Now. With you. With me. With us. </p>Jamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13091376561692615720noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4917382355345507520.post-11036199420390223542021-08-11T07:09:00.001-07:002021-08-11T07:12:37.793-07:00What if?<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-82WhMtQd1UM/YRParglhB7I/AAAAAAAAApQ/6WaNYp4Cq2QFOGxrU-UU1-CULPQqAtcWgCLcBGAsYHQ/s800/what-if-analysis-scenario-analysis-toolshero-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="800" height="160" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-82WhMtQd1UM/YRParglhB7I/AAAAAAAAApQ/6WaNYp4Cq2QFOGxrU-UU1-CULPQqAtcWgCLcBGAsYHQ/w248-h160/what-if-analysis-scenario-analysis-toolshero-1.jpg" width="248" /></a></div><br /> I'm tired. I know you are, too.<p></p><p>Everywhere we look, COVID is there. For the past 18 months it has pervaded basically every aspect of daily life. Who has it now? Am I going to get it? Mask? No mask? Vaccine? No vaccine? What's working? What isn't? Am I essential? Why are they essential and I'm not? If I can't work, how will we pay the bills? Then, add to the mix the number of social media medical experts telling us their opinions of why this or that does or doesn't work.</p><p>I'm tired. <br /></p><p>I have never really been a people person, and have always preferred my bubble to be fairly tight, only letting in the closest of friends and family. Now, I find myself cringing when someone stands too close behind me in a checkout line. Are they COVID positive? Did they just cough? I can actually feel my anxiety levels rising in certain situations that used to just be mildly uncomfortable. </p><p>I remember in February of 2020, when we first started hearing about this new strain of SARS and thinking, "Oh, this isn't going to be good." I started reading everything I could find on it, and trying to stick with articles that were from reputable medical sources. Infection rates were higher than we usually see. Transmission rates were higher than we normally see. Mortality rates were already alarming. From the looks of things, early on, it was going to get much worse before it started getting better. We masked up in public, kept our distance, limited gathering sizes, and it seemed to be working. <br /></p><p>Like most folks, the idea of a two week quarantine, were one of us in my house to be exposed, was terrifying. Also, like most folks, we didn't have funds in reserve that would carry us through two weeks, four weeks, or a couple months into some unknown future. It was a very frightening time. I switched back and forth from supporting one government mandate to thinking this was all an overreaction. I mean, how could we expect to survive if we completely shut down the country? It's a legitimate concern, and unfortunately, one that we could be facing again. Then, earlier this year, the numbers did start dropping, slowly. Hospitalizations were down. It seemed like we were beginning to turn the corner, so the country started opening up, and restrictions were relaxed. <br /></p><p>Then, like many viruses do, this one found yet another chink in our armor, mutated, and tried again. The new variant is more infectious, seems to be more easily transmitted, and is affecting the younger among us. Yet, even with 18 months of COVID restrictions, infections, and loss of life behind us there is still a growing amount of resistance to methods that might slow the spread. </p><p>See, I'm not a doctor, so my approach to this whole ordeal has not been from any type of medical background. I do have a degree in biology, with a basic understanding of genetics, mutations, etc, etc, etc, but I'm not a doctor. I didn't even sleep in a Holiday Inn Express last night, nor do I play a doctor on television. </p><p>I'm not an economist, so I have very little understanding of the long-term effects of last year's shut down, but I am a business owner, and I've seen how it has impacted my business. </p><p>I'm not a historian, so I haven't studied in depth the long term effects of events like the 1918 Flu epidemic and can't liken that to our current situation with any amount of authority. </p><p>What I am, though, is a theologian. My response to this current global threat has, from the very beginning, been rooted in my study of scriptures. I'm not talking about Revelation kind of stuff, like some folk who are claiming this is some end-time, apocalyptic, get right or get left behind, wrath of God event. That's not what it is. I'm likening it more to the leprosy that is mentioned so often in our New Testament. I don't mean we shun folk, like they did with those who had leprosy, or send them out of the city, or cross the street to prevent even the chance of coming into contact with them. I'm talking about how quickly this can spread, and what our response as Jesus followers should be.</p><p>Leprosy was a horrible disease. Do a quick google search this afternoon if you'd like to see some pretty horrific pictures. I can't imagine what it must have been like to contract that disease, and know what that was probably going to mean. No one touched a leper. Well, except one person. They were no longer able to work, and had to depend on the charity of others for their survival. Isolation would become their new normal. Then along comes this guy, Jesus, who treated them as the humans they still were. </p><p>Then, this morning, I'm sipping my coffee and scrolling through social media when one post after another starts popping up from folk I know to be Jesus followers, about "my rights," "resist the mandates," and "my kid isn't doing that." I wanted to weep. Not because I'm a huge supporter of emergency approved FDA vaccines, and certainly not because I enjoy wearing a face mask in a grocery store (because I'm not, and I hate wearing a mask,) but because I'm a theologian, and the first thought I had was, where has the church gone wrong in her teaching? What have we missed? What aspect of life as a Jesus follower did we not present often enough? All of that led me to a reflection on one little question: </p><p>What if?</p><p>What if they're right, and masks don't work? What if the emergency approval of the FDA was premature? Then, if that's the case, I probably looked the fool for wearing one into every store I entered last year, and there may be some long term side effects from the vaccine I took that I may not realize for years. But...</p><p>What if? </p><p>What if they aren't right? What if masks actually are at least somewhat helpful in preventing the transmission of this virus? What if the vaccine is safe and we just may not know for sure for a while? Is it worth the risk?</p><p>As a theologian, as a father, husband, son, friend, and member of society, all I can say in answer to that is this, "To me, it was worth the risk." You may ask me why, if you'd like, and I'll say this. In all of the study I've done of the New Testament, the stories we have about the physical life of Christ as he walked among us, I can't find anywhere that says that I'm to look out only for myself. It may be there and I've missed it, but I haven't found it yet. Over and over we hear Jesus talk about loving others as we love ourselves, and how the first shall be last while the last are first, and how we're to care for the weaker among us. We see examples of Jesus putting his own health and safety aside to reach out and care for those society had discarded. I don't know why he did that. Maybe he knew that, as the Second Person of the Trinity, it wasn't something he needed to worry about. I don't know. I do know, though, that for me (and I can only speak for me) deciding to follow Christ as I walk this world means that I have to, at the very least, consider the other's welfare as I do my own. For me, and again, I can only speak for me, that meant two things; wearing a mask when I was around others, and getting the vaccine when it became available. One was mildly frustrating, the other terrified me, but in the end, it was worth the risk to me. </p><p>Back to the question, though. What if? What if we all who claim to follow Christ took it upon ourselves to do all we can do to stop this virus simply because the examples we have of the life Christ led compelled us to? What if, we put our trust in our faith and not the opinions of those on social media? What if we approached this virus through a New Testament lens? And to narrow the field a bit, what if those of us with Wesleyan roots actually began living into the three rules? Do no harm. Do Good. Stay in love with God. Would that have any impact on the way we approach day to day life in a COVID world? I certainly hope so. </p><p>The reality is that we live in a country where we have taken our rights to be sacred, and they are. It's one of the beautiful things about our nation. But, we who follow Christ are not citizens of this nation alone. Our ultimate citizenship resides in the Kingdom of God. So, as a theologian, not a doctor, not a economist, not a historian, but as a theologian, I implore you to consider the examples of Christ in your wrestlings with the decisions we face as a society, for the greater good. </p><p>I fully expect some push back from this, but even that was worth the risk. I'll stand by my convictions that I have done what I could to follow the example of Christ in looking out for my fellow human. What if I'm wrong? That's always a possibility. Will I be seen as self-righteous? Hopefully not, and this will, instead, be taken as intended, written out of a concern for the other. What the cost may be to myself down the road, I don't know, but whatever it is, I'm ok with that. I've had a good run. <br /></p><p>Peace,</p><p>Jamie <br /></p>Jamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13091376561692615720noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4917382355345507520.post-6222093394180360342020-12-20T09:03:00.005-08:002020-12-20T14:31:18.661-08:00Am I loving my neighbor...<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-u0WgSZ82mwM/X9-F66diNvI/AAAAAAAAAlk/tp8hgzsi0Xo93sDUsS24koN6JCQvatqDgCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/coffee_190607.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="99" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-u0WgSZ82mwM/X9-F66diNvI/AAAAAAAAAlk/tp8hgzsi0Xo93sDUsS24koN6JCQvatqDgCLcBGAsYHQ/w176-h99/coffee_190607.jpg" width="176" /></a></div> So...<p></p><p>It's Sunday morning, and since I'm on leave from active ministry for a season, my Sunday morning routine has changed. I used to get up around 4:00 on Sunday, fix my first cup of coffee, grab my laptop, and spend the next couple hours doing my final edits on the day's theological ramblings, then get ready and head out to lead worship. Now, I don't. </p><p>I do, however, still spend a good deal of time waxing theological, usually just in conversations with myself, but occasionally it is through social media. Yesterday was one of the latter, and it bit me on the tail. I woke up this morning thinking about it, and wondering what it was about the post that turned out to be so upsetting. Looking back, I think the original post, and I'll share that in just a second, was laden with connotations that I didn't initially see because, after 20 plus years of pulpit ministry, it resonated with me. </p><p>Basically, it was about labels, and labels can be dangerous. Although I'm not a fan of labels except on the homemade jellies in my jelly cupboard, maybe they can be helpful for reflection purposes. If we find ourselves more aligned with one group or another, sometimes putting a name to that, although divisive to a degree for some, builds a sense of unity for others...good, bad, neither, or both. Still dangerous. <br /></p><p>The post was from a group called Nazarenes for Peace, and although the Nazarene Church shares my Wesleyan roots, or so I'm told, I know nothing about this particular group. Here is what it said, quoting their post: "Who would have ever thought that loving your neighbor would be considered liberal theology?"</p><p>Let's just let that one marinate for a second. </p><p>Here's where my reflections came in this morning. One of the comments, and the one that made me delete my post until I'd had time to reflect on it, and one from a brother whom I love dearly and have for nearly 40 years, was something to the effect, "So because I'm a conservative I don't love my neighbor." Ouch. I immediately took the post down because that was not my intention at all, and I didn't want to send a message that I hadn't thought through completely. </p><p>That is the problem with labels, and in our current environment, particularly when applying the conservative/liberal label to another. See, I grew up in a very conservative home, in a very conservative county, in a red state. I was taught conservative values, (i.e. the importance of family, honesty, loyalty, etc, etc, etc.) I was raised on conservative theology, with a very literal reading of scripture, and strongly conservative ethics taught in all of my Sunday School classes. But...that was nearly 50 years ago. Now, though, after 50 trips around the sun, 21 years of pastoral ministry, a Master of Divinity degree, and being forced to think outside of myself to earn that degree, I've shifted. </p><p>Maybe it's not that I've shifted. Perhaps my definition of liberal/conservative has shifted. See, whether we want to admit it or not, we cannot separate our personal theology from our personal politics. One will definitely shape the other. We get to determine which does what, though. Does our personal politics shape our personal theology? OR...does our theology shape our political leanings? For me, it's the latter. I believe what I believe politically because of what I believe theologically, and I think that most of us do. What I have noticed over the years is that things I used to believe in, politically, are on a completely different plane from where I am now, simply because I was forced, in seminary, to get outside of myself. </p><p>My last post was about how seminary had ruined my life, and while that was satirical in intention, it wasn't completely untrue. Until I was forced to begin thinking in ways I never had to before, I was perfectly comfortable in my literal interpretation of scripture and the conservative theology in which I was reared. Then I found out that scripture wasn't written to be taken literally, that Jesus was indeed a radical that bucked every system in place at the time, that Paul's letters were not even intended for us to read, and that God's unconditional love for all of humankind is utterly ridiculous (in a good way.)</p><p>Which leads to the reason I had to write this morning. </p><p>Back to the social media post in question from yesterday. Since it brought up the divisive nature of liberal/conservative labels, and since it implied that one loves their neighbor while the other doesn't, I would like to try a little exercise this morning. Given the hot button political issues with which we have been inundated of late, let's play a little game. (And I'm trying to do this as equitably as possible) I am going to list some of the hot button issues we've seen in the headlines lately, then I'll ask if you think they are conservative/liberal ideologies, then I'll ask if they lead us to love our neighbors. I'm doing this here because I've already spent the morning doing it in my head. Understand, going into this that I'm not trying to persuade one way or the other, just offering some points to ponder. I also know that this is probably going to get me into trouble, but I never shied away from the tough questions, even when they caused some very tense moments in my career. Here we go, and this is just for fun, and a little self-reflection. </p><p>Pro-birth: (In this instance, only means anti-abortion, regardless of the circumstance) Do you think that's a Conservative/liberal ideology? Does it lead us to love our neighbor?</p><p>Pro-choice: (In this instance, means a woman has a right to choose what happens to her body) Conservative/liberal stand? Does it lead us to love our neighbor?</p><p>Pro-life: (In this instance, anti-abortion, care of the child {and all human lives} taken into consideration) Conservative/liberal? Does it lead us to love our neighbors?</p><p>Immigration: We need to break this one down a little.</p><p><span> </span>Closed borders: No one gets in unless they follow our laws. Conservative/liberal? Does it lead us to love our neighbors?</p><p><span> </span>Separating familes to discourage border crossing. (detaining parents and children separately) Conservative/liberal? Does it lead us to love our neighbors?</p><p>The pandemic: Let's break this one down a little, as well.</p><p><span> </span>Face masks: Conservative/Liberal? Does it lead us to love our neighbor?</p><p><span> </span>Social distancing: Conservative/Liberal? Does it lead us to love our neighbor? <br /></p><p><span> </span>Possible Vaccine: Conservative/Liberal? Does it lead us to love our neighbor?</p><p>Individual rights: Conservative/Liberal? Does it lead us to love our neighbor?</p><p>Death Penalty: Conservative/Liberal? Does it lead us to love our neighbor?</p><p>Universal healthcare: Conservative/Liberal? Does it lead us to love our neighbor?</p><p>I think I'll stop there before I really get into trouble with things like gun control, racism, gender equality, human sexuality, and a host of other questions we could raise. </p><p>If you're still reading, what thoughts crossed your mind? Without offering any of my answers, I've had to really stop and think about how the things I believe in call me to love my neighbor, or if they even do. Hell, even thinking about whether I should write this or not made me ask myself, "Is doing this loving my neighbor?" I don't know. <br /></p><p>The easy answer is that there are just not any easy answers. I know what I believe theologically about who Christ was in the world, then and now, and that has forced me to rethink some of the things that I thought I always believed politically. Joseph, the guy who got to be dad to Jesus, loaded his family up one night and left the country to keep them safe. That affects my stance on immigration. Jesus, dying at the hands of the state as a rebel leader, affects my stance on capital punishment. I loathe the very idea of abortion, but I can't imagine the pain of having to decide between my life and the life of my unborn child in an impossible pregnancy. Face masks...I hate them, but if there is something to their benefit, and if wearing one MIGHT help save a life, then I'll do it. There are too many questions with too many different answers for us to be trying to box them into just two categories...yet that is exactly what we have done. </p><p>So, after much reflection this morning over a few cups of coffee and a keyboard, perhaps it was the words in the post, save one, that resonated with me. Perhaps Nazarenes for Peace would have done better to say "Who would have ever thought that loving your neighbor would be considered RADICAL theology?" Because, my friends, it is very radical. It goes against basically everything we are taught as citizens of this world, and this country. </p><p>I think it was Stephen Mattson who said, "Sometimes, being a good Christian meant being a bad Roman." There is some truth to that. Sometimes you can be both, sometimes you have to choose. It was Joshua, in our ancient Hebrew text, who said, "As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord." Doing that will sometimes make you look like a terrible citizen of this world. I'm okay with that. </p><p>Labels are so dangerous, and perhaps what triggered my self-reflection this morning wasn't the fact that the original post was about labels, though it was, but instead about a very fundamental question we all need to be asking ourselves. That question is not "Do I see myself as conservative or liberal?" Instead, maybe we should be asking, "Does the way I feel about this particular issue honor the love of God through the person and life of Christ? And does it show the world that I love my neighbor?"<br /></p>Jamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13091376561692615720noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4917382355345507520.post-66702876613918101162020-11-09T17:30:00.003-08:002020-11-09T17:36:30.932-08:00"Seminary ruined my life."<p>Well, here we are again. In January of last year I wrote what I thought would be my last blog post. Over the last 11 years, this space has been a safe place for me, one where I could process the thoughts that ran rampant in my mind, and find some sense of balance, some sense of peace, some sense of... well, some sense of me. </p><p>I've learned over the years that when I get that nagging itch to write, I need to just go ahead and do it. I can put it off for a while, but not forever. The last few months have given me, along with countless others, much to process. For me, that processing always goes back to theology. </p><p>For those who know me, they know that I spent 21 years in pastoral ministry, but in what is becoming my autumnal season of life, have gone back to what was evidently, something I never truly walked away from...carpentry. I've strapped back on my toolbelt and gone back to residential construction. Even during those years when I was a full time pastor, the smell of sawdust first thing in the morning never left my system. On the flip side of that same coin, as a full time carpenter now, theology has never left my system. I have sawdust in my blood, and probably always will, but my first true love is theology. </p><p>Years ago, as I was still in the ordination process, a well meaning church member told me one Sunday morning, "Don't let that seminary change you." In the years since, I have come to realize that change is the very goal of theological education. We cannot grow unless we change, and education demands that we grow. </p><p> In 2004, I began that journey. As a 33 year old, I was still a young pastor. I had finished my Bachelor degree work, getting a degree in Biology with a minor in chemistry. I still don't know how I achieved the minor because I couldn't balance a chemical equation now if my soul depended on it. Still, after having graduated with my BS, I began the journey into theological education. </p><p>I chose a seminary that I knew would challenge me, because I needed to be challenged. After checking out a few schools, I landed at Memphis Theological Seminary, a relatively small school in midtown Memphis. The first two years changed me. </p><p>At 33 years old, I had it all figured out. My theology was conservative, as I'd been taught all my life. My interpretation of scripture was literal. Jonah literally spent 3 days in the belly of a whale. My scientific mind had not yet begun to wrestle with that because there had been no need to. The creation story was a story about six literal days, six 24 hour periods where all that is...was. I had not yet discovered C.S. Lewis and the Chronicles of Narnia, nor had I read "The Magician's Nephew," where, as Aslan sang, the land of Narnia burst into being. I'd had no reason, at that point in my life, to question anything. </p><p>Then I began the classwork. That first semester I had wonderful instructors. I'll never forget Dr. Steve Parish walking into my very first seminary class. I had expected an old white guy in a tweed jacket with suede elbow patches, but instead, in walks this old hippie with a ponytail, jeans, and flip flops. I love the guy still. Then I began to meet my other professors. Theologians, all, yet not in the sense that I'd expected. </p><p>Then it happened. Seminary ruined my life. </p><p>That first semester, and for three semesters after, I sat there as the walls of my theological castle came tumbling down. There was nothing I could do, save try not to inhale the dust and hold on as the ground shook. One after another, I watched helplessly as my walls crumbled. Scripture is not literal? What the hell? Jonah could not survive three days in a mammalian stomach acid bath? The creation story as an explanation of how our story as the people of God began? </p><p>Helpless. That's the only word I can use to describe it. </p><p>Everything I had ever thought to be true was being challenged. </p><p>You see, in my part of the world, good Christian boys and girls don't challenge anything. I live in a red state. Most of the folks who are my neighbors, friends, and family, hold to a very traditional, very conservative, very literal understanding of scripture. It was how I was raised. It was all I had ever known. It was all I thought I'd ever need. Then came seminary. </p><p>I sat there, being taught that scripture was not to be interpreted literally, and was never intended to be. Paul's letters, and the other epistles, weren't even meant for us to read all these centuries later. Context was everything, and changed much of the way I read scripture. When you understand who it was written to, and why, and where, and when, things change. </p><p>Now, I'm at peace with who I am. My understanding of scripture is no longer so conservative, nor so literal. In fact, I'm the polar opposite of who I was 15 years ago. I am comfortable with the reality that Paul was not writing to me, and that we put way more emphasis on Paul than we do Jesus. My scientific mind and my theological mind are no longer at odds because, whether it was six days or 60 million years, doesn't take away from the fact that God loves us and created a world for us to live in, while at the same time giving us charge to care for it.</p><p>Theologically, I'm no longer conservative because I have been taught that the Jesus I had given my life to was a radical, an extreme radical. He treated women in a way they'd never been treated before. He showed concern for those no one else cared for. He opened my eyes to the fact that no one is illegal in God's eye, whether they followed our laws to get here or not. I saw, in the new Jesus I'd found, a path to live the life that had always been there, albeit just under the surface of what was acceptable. </p><p>The problem came when I began to follow that Jesus. It's one thing to sing our hymns to Jesus, in four part harmony, yet a totally different thing to actually follow him. I couldn't sing then, still can't now, but though I may be off key I'll just sing more loudly. What I can do, though, is follow that Jesus. That radical, liberal, way too far to the left, Jesus. I can follow him, but...it has ruined my life. </p><p>And that's ok. </p><p>That Jesus has told me that skin color doesn't matter in God's eye. That Jesus has asked me which kingdom I intend to serve. That Jesus, radical Jesus, liberal Jesus, has asked me if I still love my brothers and sisters who march under the rainbow flag. That Jesus has reminded me, "Jamie, you have prayed every night that my kingdom come on earth as it is in heaven. Do you really mean that?" Yes, radical Jesus, I mean that. </p><p>I've lost friends. I've unfollowed family's social media posts. I've questioned everything I've ever known to be true because that damn seminary ruined my life. And...this election season... don't even get me started. <br /></p><p>Actually...seminary did not ruin my life. In fact, seminary was probably the best thing that has ever happened to me other than my marriage and the birth of my daughters. </p><p>No, seminary did not ruin my life. Seminary just showed me that there's really no place for a guy like me around here. <br /></p><p>My prayer now is that this same radical Jesus that I've given my entire adult life to serving, show me where I belong in God's kingdom plan. </p><p><br /></p><p> <br /></p>Jamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13091376561692615720noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4917382355345507520.post-50322900793041590272019-01-13T07:32:00.000-08:002019-01-13T07:32:46.898-08:00Shutting the GateI think I started this blog in 2009, but I'm not sure. It was intended to be a space for me to process so much of the things that were running through my head at the time because I process through writing. I think I always have. Today, I think one more post and then it's time to shut the gate and move on. <br />
It's a long one, but since it may be the last one, that's ok. <br />
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It's no secret that my world has seen some major upheavals over the past few months, but those endings have given birth to new beginnings. There have been times of great grief, but also of great celebrations. There have been times of uncertainty and panic, but also times of extreme, almost eerie, calm and peace. I'm not whining or looking for sympathy, just a simple man telling a story as part of a process we all go through at some point in our lives. <br />
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It started July 31 of last year when I got a phone call no son wants to get: "Your dad is having a heart attack and is on the way to the hospital by ambulance." I don't even remember what I was doing at the time, but whatever it was, I dropped it and headed to the hospital. Since I lived closer than they did, I beat the ambulance there by 10-15 minutes, and I confess those were some of the longest minutes of my life. As a biologist by education, and a science geek, I had visions of Schrodinger's cat, in that until I saw dad, he was both alive and dead. I just didn't know. He'd already had one major heart attack and quadruple bypass, so I was unsure whether or not his body could handle another one. That day began a very long journey for my dad, one that he still struggles with, because the heart attack was followed by multiple complications and two very close calls with mortality. It also exacerbated the Multiple Sclerosis he has battled for 40 years, leaving him unable to care for himself. Watching our parents age and grow weaker is tough. <br />
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2018 was also the year that my supervisor told me I needed to take a spiritual renewal leave. In January of last year, he said, "You've been doing this nearly 20 years and at this appointment for 7, it's time for you to take a renewal leave to rest your body and soul." That caused some anxiety for me because I've never done well with resting. It's still a growing edge for me but one that I'm more aware of now. I brought the idea to my leadership team and they were supportive at the time, so I began to study the calendar and look for an opportunity to step away for 30 days. As June rolled around, I had decided to step away for the last two weeks of August and the first two weeks of September. That's a fairly slow time in the church calendar because liturgically we were still in the season after Pentecost, all of the back to school events would be over, and there was time before Advent planning would need to begin. <br />
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In July, I brought it up again and this time got some push back. One thing I've learned over 19 years of pastoral ministry is that it's a great place for folks like me. I've worked since I was 9 years old and had always put work above most anything else. A church will let you work yourself to death and pat you on the back for it, which fed right into my ego. That night I took a stand for myself and it began my downfall. The details are confidential and really not important, but looking back I can now see that was the beginning of the end. <br />
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Then comes August and our next meeting. This time the mood was completely different in the room and, having been through meetings like this before, watching the gatherings in the parking lot before the meeting, I knew this was not going to go well. I was not wrong. Rumors had been flying all over the county about me and I was completely unaware. For the next half hour or so it was like I was trying to sip water from a fire hose as each person in the room went around the table with one accusation after another. Two had merit: one was an accident from two years earlier and that I had already apologized for, the other I corrected as soon as I found out it was a problem, so I don't claim total innocence. None of us can...ever. <br />
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In Celebrate Recovery, as we get to the spiritual inventory part of the recovery process, there is a sheet of paper we fill out describing things like, the event that caused pain, the person who hurt us, the people we've hurt, and our role in it. It's a painful process, but a necessary one if recovery is to be obtained. After that meeting I began my own inventory, owning my parts of the problems. <br />
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I contacted my supervisor, told him what was going on, and said, "There is no way I can recover from this." In my gut, I felt like my 19 year career was over. Folks in my inner circle kept saying things like, "Don't panic yet," or "Let's don't go worst case scenario yet," but I knew. <br />
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The timing couldn't have been worse. Dad was still in the hospital, and I was 4 days away from a 30 day leave that was intended to rest my spirit, but there was no rest. We had always been very intentional about keeping an eye out for any smoldering fires, but now I wasn't going to be in the position to do that for a month, and the inferno began to rage. <br />
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I started hearing about all of the things I was supposed to have done, and it was almost comical in that I told my wife, "Evidently I have been a very busy young man." None of them were true, but in small town life, it doesn't matter. Blood and sex sells. <br />
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Long story short, two weeks later, there was to be a meeting with my supervisor to discuss the situation. As part of the renewal leave, we had scheduled 3 days of vacation in Gatlinburg, and it happened to fall on the weekend the meeting was to take place. That Sunday afternoon, I finally got the phone call I'd been waiting for, and when I asked how it went, I was told, "Not well." As I stood there on the sidewalk in Gatlinburg, listening, trying to keep my knees under me and not vomit on innocent passersby, I learned that I no longer had a job and that the church leadership wouldn't allow me to come back and say goodbye. In two weeks, folks I loved dearly and trusted as part of my inner circle had turned on me. I'd been told years earlier that a church can turn on their pastor overnight, but those kinds of things happen to other people, not me. The problem was, this was done without the knowledge of the congregation, and had been building for months right under my nose. I had been fired. It was also done in a way that made it look like I just left. <br />
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Then the panic set in. We discussed options and began looking at future plans, but my world was spinning out of control so fast that I was unable to focus on anything but that moment. What was I going to do? How was I going to support my family? Where were we going to live? <br />
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See, everything in our world at the time was dependent on the church, and I have since learned that this is a dangerous scenario. It lulls the clergy family into a false sense of security, while the reality is most of us are just one board meeting away from unemployment. Those of us who are set upon a pedestal by those we serve become easy targets for rumors, gossip, and lies. Those things are not harmless words. They are devastating and can bring destruction and death wherever they are spread. I'm living proof. <br />
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I was still credentialed, but there were no appointments available. I had wanted to open a restaurant for a couple years, and I started thinking about that as an option. I could always put my toolbelt back on and go back to driving nails, but I was 17 years older than the last time I did that and wasn't sure my body could handle it. <br />
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The first priority was to find a house. That is where the story begins to shift from the devastation I had just experienced to knowing my family was being cradled by the hand of God. Folks were still talking, mouths were still running, tongues were still flapping, but I was discovering a peace I had not felt in years. It was going to be ok. Somehow. We were going to be ok. I had no idea what the future was going to look like, but for some reason, I wasn't worried about it as much anymore. There were still moments of panic, but they were becoming fewer and farther between. <br />
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I called our realtor on the way back from Gatlinburg and said, "Find us a house, ASAP." Without hesitation, she said, "Don't worry. I'm on this." The next day we had set up the first showing. It was a possibility, but not what we were looking for, yet it would be doable if we weren't able to find something else. We knew our price range. We had an idea of what we could afford and where we wanted to land, but for the next week we looked at every house on the market in the Purchase Area. We set up a couple more showings, and the next week found the one we would go on to buy. I could write for hours about all of the little things that fell into place for us over the next few weeks, but suffice it to say, it was nothing short of the hand of God at work. We had everything on our end ready for closing 6 business days after we signed the contract. The loan officer said she had never had one go through that quickly in her career. Every time we needed something for the house so that we could move in, somehow that need was met. Over and over this happened for the next month and it reminded me that I didn't have to be in control of this new life situation because God was. <br />
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It was a very humbling experience. <br />
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After we settled into the house, I began to look at the future through calmer eyes, and started thinking about what I was supposed to do. For me, full time ministry was not an option anymore because I never wanted to be dependent on the church again. However, ministry had been my life for 19 years so I didn't want to completely walk away. The sandwich shop was going to be too great a risk, because even though it was something I would love to do, I just wasn't sure it would work or that I could even put together the capital to get started. That left my tool belt as the best option. <br />
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I loved building houses. I did if for nearly 10 years before entering the ministry and the smell of sawdust in the morning never completely got out of my system. The problem was, I was 47 years old, my knees were pretty much shot already, and like many clergy, I was terribly out of shape. I knew that if this was the path I chose, the first two or three months were going to be brutal. On top of that, we were quickly coming into winter, and winter is the worst time of year to be a contractor. Still, there was a peace and a calm that I had not experienced in years. <br />
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So, I bit the bullet and put out a quick little blurb on social media saying that I was putting my tool belt back on and if someone needed home repairs, just shoot me a message. Again, I was humbled. Blessed, extremely blessed, but humbled. I didn't expect the response, nor was I prepared for it. My prayer was, "God, if you present the opportunities, I'm not afraid to work hard." Today is January 13 and I'm scheduling for March already. I am a very blessed man. <br />
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Now for the theological reflection part, because without that, it sounds like I'm just bitching and moaning. Let me start by saying that my faith in God has never been stronger. I have experienced so many things over the last few months that can only be explained as the hand of God at work. For 19 years I've talked to others about surrendering to God's will, but it wasn't until I hit my own personal rock bottom that I did that myself. Once you find yourself with nowhere else to go and nothing else to lose, surrender seems to come easier. Now, I'm very thankful for all I've been through because I feel that my relationship with my Creator is stronger than it has ever been. <br />
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The Church, with a capital C, not so much. And I own that. Trust in the system and the institution has been all but destroyed. I was born into the church and have never strayed, save a few months in my 16th year, but even then I came back. I have given the past 19 years of my life to serving the church, only to be swept away like drink cups under the bleachers after a ballgame. Still, I know the importance of community. We were not created to live life alone. <br />
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If and when I come back to pastoral ministry, and that is still very much an option, I will come back with a new understanding of the people we in the church call "the dones." They have been part of a church, were hurt by the church, and said they were done with the church. Their trust has also been destroyed, but the God who breathed life into them still very much wants them to be part of a community. Personally, I have traded my vestments for work boots for a season and haven't been happier in years. I have been to worship twice in five months and I get it. I get why folks find it so easy to skip church to do something else on Sunday morning. I feel like the experiences I've had over the last few months put me in a wonderful position to understand those who are frustrated with organized religion and could very well give birth to a very dynamic ministry. That excites me...but I'm just not sure that I'm ready yet. <br />
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I have grieved the losses and welcomed the unknowns. I have dealt with my anger, and have gained a new understanding of forgiveness. I have witnessed the hedge of protection so many pray for. I have been broken down and reborn. Would I ask to go through this? Not on a dare. Am I thankful for it? Every minute of every day. Today, I can honestly say that life is good...very good. <br />
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I'm currently writing a book about how God walks with us through the valley times and often brings us safely through the other side. It's not ready to be published yet, but the writing itself has been very cathartic. As for this blog, it, too has been very therapeutic over the last ten years, but I think it's time. It's time, at least for a season, to close the gate and move on. <br />
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As I close the door on this season of my life and look forward to the next, I leave you with a blessing attributed to St. Francis:<br />
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May God bless you with a restless discomfort about easy answers, half-truths, and superficial relationships, so that you may seek truth boldly and love deep within your heart.<br />
May God bless you with holy anger at injustice, oppression, and exploitation of people, so that you may tirelessly work for justice, freedom, and peace among all people. <br />
May God bless you with the gift of tears to shed for those who suffer from pain, rejection, starvation, or the loss of all they cherish, so that you may reach out your hand to comfort them and transform their pain into joy. <br />
May God bless you with enough foolishness to believe that you really can make a difference in this world, so that you are able, with God's grace, to do what others cannot be done. <br />
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Until God tells me it's time to write again, peace be with you. <br />
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<br />Jamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13091376561692615720noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4917382355345507520.post-15617175786871966752018-06-28T05:32:00.001-07:002021-08-11T15:06:23.366-07:00My Journey to the LeftI'm a liberal.<br />
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There, I said it. Among my family, I'm one of the few. In my friends circle, I'm one of the few. Among my colleagues, across denominational lines, I'm certainly one of the few...but I haven't always been.<br />
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I was born into a conservative, southern family. I grew up in a very conservative, small country church. I was taught a very conservative interpretation of scripture; the bible says what it says in the letters on the page, end of discussion. It was all I knew, therefore, I never questioned it.<br />
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I'm proud of the way I was raised, honestly. My parents instilled in me a set of core values that have continually shaped who I am today. I was taught respect. I was taught to work hard for the things I wanted or needed. When I was 9 years old my dad did one of the best things a father could do for his son. He told me, "Boy, one of these days you're going to want to drive a car. You'd better go to work." So, I did. At 9 years old I started hiring myself out to the local farmers and when 16 came, I was able to pay cash for my first truck. I've worked hard ever since.<br />
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I was taught the value of life, not just human life, but all life. The men in my family were hunters, but we only killed what we were going to eat. There was no such thing as pulling the trigger just for the trophy. We raised a garden, and we all helped in it. Summers were spent with my parents, and grandparents under the shade trees shucking corn or breaking beans. It's just what we did, and I wouldn't trade anything for my upbringing.<br />
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Then, as I grew through my 20's and began to realize that what I had been feeling for years was a call to ordained ministry, my thinking began to shift. I would read something in scripture and think, "That can't be right." I would hear conversations in the church and think, "I'm not sure Jesus would agree with that." I would see the things going on around me in the world, how some in the church responded to them, and think "I know Jesus wouldn't agree with that."<br />
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Then social media became a thing, and suddenly, people had a much larger audience among which to spread their ideologies and opinions. The more I watched, the more I studied, the more attention I paid to the struggles of others...the more steps I took to the left.<br />
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In nearly 20 years of pastoral ministry, I've heard one scripture quote after another being used to support less than Christ-like behavior. Yes, the bible does say those things, but context is everything, and it falls to each generation to, through prayer and study, try to figure out what God is saying to us today.<br />
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I'm no longer a literalist. I don't take holy writ at face value. If I am studying (exegeting) a text, I want to know when it was written, who it was written to, and why it was written. This prevents me from taking one verse from here or there and using it to support my own personal agenda. (Which is closer to eisegesis than exegesis) It forces me to look at the big picture. It requires of me a level of patience that has always been a growing edge, as I try to discern what it is God would have me hear.<br />
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It's changed my political leaning. Growing up in South Graves County, you had no real choice but to be a democrat. During the Clinton years, that no longer worked for me, so I changed parties. Now, the Republican party bears very little, if any, resemblance to the party I felt would be a good fit for me nearly 15 years ago.<br />
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After reflecting on this for a while, I'm honestly not sure if I became more liberal, or always was and just didn't know it. Either way, as a liberal in the UMC, which is way too liberal for some folk anyhow, I will continue to stand up for those on the margins. I will continue to call out our government for the way they are handling the immigration crisis that they, by the way, created. I will continue to stand with my brothers and sisters of color and condemn racism for the vile, hate filled institution it is. I will continue to fight for the addict because we are all sinners saved by grace. I will continue to proclaim that God does not, in fact, hate gay people and that we are all people of sacred worth.<br />
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And...if that makes me a bleeding heart, or a snowflake, or any other term folks use to describe folk like me, I'm totally cool with that. Why? Because, after nearly 20 years of studying scripture, exegeting texts, creating outlines, and watching the world spin around me, I keep going back to the time Jesus said that there were two things that summed up the Law and the prophets; Love God with everything you have, and love your neighbor just like you love yourself. For me, that's enough. Jamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13091376561692615720noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4917382355345507520.post-87510721645917963202018-05-10T06:57:00.002-07:002021-08-11T15:03:32.182-07:00Done with the church<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2C8cvrCWHcw/WvROh1qk4pI/AAAAAAAAAdw/skn_ApORDVgI_AuFeuFT2jzkZo0M0li5ACLcBGAs/s1600/church-plant.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="283" data-original-width="424" height="133" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2C8cvrCWHcw/WvROh1qk4pI/AAAAAAAAAdw/skn_ApORDVgI_AuFeuFT2jzkZo0M0li5ACLcBGAs/s200/church-plant.jpg" width="200" /></a> Ok, now that I have your attention, I don't really mean done with the church. I love the church. I've given my life to serving and leading the church. I just wanted to get your attention. Pastor is as much my identity as husband and father. But...from a few things I've seen on social media lately, there does seem to be a growing number of folks who have taken that attitude about organized religion, so through theological reflection, or rant, or some of both, I'd like to take a few minutes and address that. <br />
First, I've never considered myself an apologist. I don't think the Gospel needs me to defend it. I certainly don't think JC needs me to have his back like we were kids on an elementary playground. However, I do feel that the church just might. Here's why I say that. Over the last couple weeks I've noticed not one, but several social media posts blaming the church for everything from ignoring homelessness, to turning a blind eye to abject poverty, to being self-serving, to tax evasion. I wish that I could say that none of those things existed in any church setting, but I'm sure that somewhere out there are churches who are guilty of one, if not more of those.<br />
Let me assure you, though, that this is not the case everywhere. The church isn't like any other organization in the world. We don't sell a product. We can't increase production to increase income. We rely entirely on the generosity of those who gather with a shared vision as part of the holy community every week. In addition to that, we feel called, nay, mandated to do all that we can to end poverty, end homelessness, end racism, end discrimination, feed the hungry, clothe the naked, care for the prisoner, and see that our neighbors have their most basic human needs met. Do we always succeed, Good Lord no. But we try. <br />
I've waited several days to write this so that my words would be rational, relevant, and not emotionally charged because, let me tell you, my last three weeks have been anything but quiet. I have dealt with folks who see the church only as an ATM. I have dealt with extreme mental illness. I have dealt with folks who have stumbled in their walk to recovery. I have dealt with people I've never met expecting me to pay their utility bills. I have dealt with transients. I have dealt with rudeness as we handed out a plate of food. AND I DON'T MIND. It's just part of the job. This is what I get up for every morning. Preaching on Sunday morning may be my favorite part of the week, but prep time aside, it's a very small part of my week. <br />
To the folks who would condemn the church on social media, may I ask this? When was the last time you were part of an active community of faith? Now, I'm not talking about some back woods, ultra-fundamentalist, "You're going to hell if you don't change your ways," let me guilt you out of hell and into serving, kind of community. I'm not talking about a mega church where the pastor has a six figure income, and you can slip in and out unnoticed on Sunday morning. I'm talking about a midsize, active congregation, who sees what's going on around their community, and is actively trying to make a difference? <br />
See, that's my context. That's where I work and live out my faith...a midsize congregation, in a rural community, surrounded by an epidemic of addiction, poverty, and declining demographics. Folks in my community are struggling. I mean really struggling. There are very few employment opportunities around here and it's beginning to have some major impacts. <br />
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To those who would condemn the church for ignoring homelessness, poverty, hunger, addictions, whatever the criticism of the day may be, may I brag on my folks for a minute? <br />
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Our average attendance bounces from 120-140 on Sunday morning. We have a budget that is at the upper edge of what we can support. Some of that is salary, modest salaries by the way, but most of it is just the expense of doing ministry...utilities, programming costs, supplies, VBS materials, paper plates, food for our feeding program, and things like that. We are very careful to be good stewards of what we have been entrusted with. But, with that goal in mind, my folks are doing some amazing things. <br />
Twice a week we provide a hot meal for anyone in the community who wants to come. It doesn't matter that I saw them walking out of the liquor store with a case of beer under their arms. That's not for me to judge. Once a week we host Celebrate Recovery so that folks can get the tools they need to help them step into a brand new life. We have a very active Relay for Life team. In fact, I'm not sure we don't have two Relay for Life teams now, who are working to see that everyone gets another birthday. We offer utilities assistance through His House every month. My folks support the food pantry, not just through food donations, and dollars, but by actually going down there and helping hand out food. <br />
We dreamed big and built a 4 1/2 acre lake so that folks in our community could have a place to hang out with their families and we could work with at risk kids in the school, which is right across the road. Next year we'll open it up to the public for catch and release fishing. We kept dreaming and built a walking trail around the property. It took 400 tons of rock, but we wanted to give something to the community because we know that physical health and spiritual health go hand in hand. It's 8 tenths of a mile long and open all day long to anyone who wants to use it. This summer we're building some primitive campsites on the property so that we can increase our mentoring programs. <br />
When the school approached me and said they were afraid they were going to lose their after school program funding, we began working to get a plan together that would let us pick up the slack. This gave birth to our Quest program, one afternoon a week. <br />
Last night, I met with some of our gals in the church who started a support group a few years ago for those struggling with fertility issues and/or adoption. Last night, they went over grant applications and awarded $4500 in grants. This started with the dream of 3 of my gals. $4500!<br />
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I know that I'm leaving something out, but the point is, Grace Church LaCenter is doing everything we possibly can to follow the gospel example and ease the suffering of those around us, and we're not the only church doing exactly that. <br />
Could we do more? Could any church do more? Absolutely!!!! However, over the last few decades, the number of folks sitting around saying, "Screw the church" has surpassed the number of folks gathering each week and saying, "We are the church." If more folks would give us a chance, (I know that many of you have tried a church and been hurt. For that, my heart breaks,) and if the ones who would give us a chance would support the ministries by their prayers, their presence, their gifts, their service, and their witness the church could do so much more. <br />
We could not only feed folks, but we could give them tools that would help them get back on their feet. We could not only help folks with recovery ministries, but we could attack the systems that cause folks to pick up the needle in the first place. We could not only help with utilities, but we could begin the look for ways we could be involved in rebuilding our local economics. We could do more than just put folks up in the motel for a night. We could build tiny home like homeless shelters. (which, by the way, we are trying to figure out how to do already) <br />
See? It's not that we don't want to, but at the end of the day, we are limited in what we can do. I'm not just a theologian. I have to have some basic business skills so that we can take what we've been entrusted with and stretch it as far as possible. This is one of our foundational prayers. <br />
So, before you say, "Screw the church," and start slamming her on social media, come check us out. Give me one week to change your mind about the role this church, and others like her, play in bringing the kingdom and I guarantee you I can do it. <br />
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Peace,<br />JamieJamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13091376561692615720noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4917382355345507520.post-63791291055766614702018-04-26T11:25:00.003-07:002018-04-26T11:25:49.214-07:00All Religion is Political<div style="direction: ltr; font-family: "Segoe UI", Helvetica, "S60 Sans", "BBAlpha Sans", Droid, Tahoma, Arial; font-size: 16px; margin-top: 5px;">
<b>“ALL RELIGION IS POLITICAL” </b></div>
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<span style="direction: ltr;">DISCLAIMER: I know the title may be off-<span style="direction: ltr;">putting to some, but I promise it’s not what <span style="direction: ltr;">it seems. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="direction: ltr;">When I was in seminary, I had a <span style="direction: ltr;">professor who made that statement in <span style="direction: ltr;">class one day. She was known for going <span style="direction: ltr;">for the shock factor, so initially I thought <span style="direction: ltr;">that was all it was. The more I thought <span style="direction: ltr;">about it, though, the more right I realized <span style="direction: ltr;">she was. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="direction: ltr;">If we read the gospels, I mean <span style="direction: ltr;">really read them, we will see that Jesus <span style="direction: ltr;">was not a moderate in any sense of the <span style="direction: ltr;">word. He saw the damage that was being <span style="direction: ltr;">done by the systems that had been in <span style="direction: ltr;">place for years. He saw how it allowed <span style="direction: ltr;">some to live very comfortably, but at the <span style="direction: ltr;">expense of those who struggled on the <span style="direction: ltr;">very edges of survival. He realized there <span style="direction: ltr;">were double standards in place <span style="direction: ltr;">depending on how one was born, and that <span style="direction: ltr;">there was very little chance of upward <span style="direction: ltr;">mobility in their society. Generally, if you <span style="direction: ltr;">were born into poverty you died in <span style="direction: ltr;">poverty. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="direction: ltr;">Jesus was very intentional <span style="direction: ltr;">about everything he said, everything he <span style="direction: ltr;">did, and much of what he said and did flew <span style="direction: ltr;">right in the face of those who held the <span style="direction: ltr;">power and who eventually became his <span style="direction: ltr;">critics. He stood up for women and <span style="direction: ltr;">children, widows and orphans, those on <span style="direction: ltr;">the margin, and those who were <span style="direction: ltr;">considered outcasts. He ate with sinners <span style="direction: ltr;">and comforted those no one else wanted <span style="direction: ltr;">anything to do with. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="direction: ltr;">This wasn’t just because he was <span style="direction: ltr;">a great guy. He knew that creating a <span style="direction: ltr;">society where equality was the norm <span style="direction: ltr;">instead of the exception was part of his <span style="direction: ltr;">mission and part of the kingdom of God. <span style="direction: ltr;">Anything less just wouldn’t do. </span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="direction: ltr;">So, Grace Church, since we are <span style="direction: ltr;">in the middle of election season this year, <span style="direction: ltr;">what is the Church to do? With so much <span style="direction: ltr;">going on that affects so many people, <span style="direction: ltr;">probably more so this year than we have <span style="direction: ltr;">seen in recent history, do we ignore the <span style="direction: ltr;">things that are being said and done? Do <span style="direction: ltr;">we follow the example of Christ and make <span style="direction: ltr;">a stand for the more vulnerable among <span style="direction: ltr;">us? Do we make our voices heard? </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="direction: ltr;">In nearly 19 years of ministry I <span style="direction: ltr;">have never once voiced any kind of <span style="direction: ltr;">political stand in a Sunday morning <span style="direction: ltr;">message. I won’t. That’s not the place for <span style="direction: ltr;">it… But, engaging in politics, especially <span style="direction: ltr;">where our religion is concerned, is about <span style="direction: ltr;">more than voicing support for one <span style="direction: ltr;">candidate over another. That I won’t do. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="direction: ltr;">But…as followers of Christ, <span style="direction: ltr;">everything we say and do as a church <span style="direction: ltr;">carries political connotations for the <span style="direction: ltr;">simple reason that we are called to care <span style="direction: ltr;">for the weak among us, or those who, <span style="direction: ltr;">because of their station in life have little <span style="direction: ltr;">means of protecting themselves. If we <span style="direction: ltr;">don’t, who will? </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="direction: ltr;">It’s so easy to apply labels to <span style="direction: ltr;">folk during this season…Conservative, <span style="direction: ltr;">Liberal, Moderate, Republican, Democrat, <span style="direction: ltr;">Independent, Ultra-right, Ultra-left, rich, <span style="direction: ltr;">poor, gay, straight, white, black, and we <span style="direction: ltr;">could go on and on. When we do that, <span style="direction: ltr;">though, we remove a level of humanity <span style="direction: ltr;">from those to whom we apply the labels. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="direction: ltr;">As the Church, with a Capital <span style="direction: ltr;">“C” we have but one name, one <span style="direction: ltr;">label…Disciple of Christ. His example is <span style="direction: ltr;">the gauge by which we measure all that <span style="direction: ltr;">we say and do. That name goes with us <span style="direction: ltr;">from the worship service to the polling <span style="direction: ltr;">place, and everywhere in between. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="direction: ltr;">Handing out care packages is <span style="direction: ltr;">wonderful, but what system causes them <span style="direction: ltr;">to be a necessity? Helping folks with <span style="direction: ltr;">utility bills is wonderful, but what system <span style="direction: ltr;">causes it to be a necessity? Preparing <span style="direction: ltr;">meals and supporting the food pantry are <span style="direction: ltr;">wonderful, but what system causes them <span style="direction: ltr;">to be a necessity? Recovery ministries <span style="direction: ltr;">are wonderful, but what system causes <span style="direction: ltr;">them to be a necessity? </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="direction: ltr;">The Church should be asking <span style="direction: ltr;">those questions and looking for gospel <span style="direction: ltr;">examples of how Christ dealt with those <span style="direction: ltr;">who had the power to institute real <span style="direction: ltr;">change. We have the power and the <span style="direction: ltr;">calling to do that just as Christ did. The <span style="direction: ltr;">problem is, it got him killed. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="direction: ltr;">So, Grace Church, I promise <span style="direction: ltr;">that, as your pastor, you will never hear <span style="direction: ltr;">me endorse one candidate over another <span style="direction: ltr;">from up front. That’s not my place. But, I <span style="direction: ltr;">may push us to look at ways we can bring <span style="direction: ltr;">real change to our community through the <span style="direction: ltr;">power of the vote. That’s not just politics. <span style="direction: ltr;">That’s Kingdom of God kind of stuff. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="direction: ltr;">“May God bless you with a <span style="direction: ltr;">restless discomfort about easy answers, <span style="direction: ltr;">half-truths, and superficial relationships, <span style="direction: ltr;">so that you may seek truth boldly, and <span style="direction: ltr;">love deep within your heart. May God <span style="direction: ltr;">bless you with holy anger at injustice, <span style="direction: ltr;">oppression, and exploitation of people, so <span style="direction: ltr;">that you may tirelessly work for justice, <span style="direction: ltr;">freedom, and peace among all people. <span style="direction: ltr;">May God bless you with the gift of tears to <span style="direction: ltr;">shed for those who suffer from pain, <span style="direction: ltr;">rejection, starvation, or the loss of all they <span style="direction: ltr;">cherish, so that you may reach out your <span style="direction: ltr;">hand to comfort them and transform their <span style="direction: ltr;">pain into joy. May God bless you with <span style="direction: ltr;">enough foolishness to believe that you <span style="direction: ltr;">really can make a difference in this world, <span style="direction: ltr;">so that you are able, with God’s grace, to <span style="direction: ltr;">do what others claim cannot be done.” (A <span style="direction: ltr;">Blessing of St. Francis) </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
Jamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13091376561692615720noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4917382355345507520.post-24396937880645204992017-08-14T18:29:00.002-07:002017-08-15T06:50:55.228-07:00When is it okay to be an angry Jesus freak?I saw the images on the news. The same images you've probably seen this week. Those images were of men carrying torches down the streets of a small town that, until this weekend, most folks had never heard of. I hadn't. The audio bytes and video clips allowed us to hear them chanting things that remind us of a time in world history we had hoped and prayed was over at the end of the Second World War. I've seen the video of the car that plowed into the crowd, knowing that at that instant, a life had been taken and nearly two dozen others had been injured. My heart breaks. <br />
<br />
I'll not label the men walking the streets this weekend. I'll not call them names. I'll not voice hatred or wish them harm. I understand, I think, their anger. Change was coming to that small town, and change as we all know, can sometimes be ugly. However, it can also sometimes be very necessary. Was the city government right in their decision to take down the statue, causing the events of this past weekend to take place? I don't have an easy answer for that. Were they, as some have claimed, trying to erase history and downplay heritage? I honestly can't answer that one, either, nor do I try to. <br />
<br />
I'm not even writing about what happened this weekend, directly. Indirectly, it has caused to resurface something I've struggled with for years.<br />
<br />
What caused me to sit down and start typing was an article I saw this afternoon written by Russell Moore, titled, "White supremacy angers Jesus, but does it anger his church?" Actually, it wasn't the whole article that caused me to sit down at the laptop, it was just a few lines: "In a time like this, Christians might ask whether we should, in fact, be angry. Should we not instead just conclude that this is what a fallen world looks like and pray for the final judgment to come?"<br />
<br />
The short answers are: Yes and No.<br />
<br />
Yes.<br />
<br />
Jesus followers should be angry at any injustice raised against another member of the human family. Whether it was the events of this weekend, human trafficking, drug pushers, the systems that keep our brothers and sisters trapped in poverty and/or homelessness, governments who don't have their peoples' best interests at heart, bullies...anything that causes one human to inflict harm on another should make us angry. And yes, I believe those things anger Christ as well. <br />
<br />
No.<br />
<br />
We should not just conclude that this is what a fallen world looks like and pray for the final judgement. Why? Because that is exactly what the forces of evil in this world want us to do...nothing...just wait...pray and it will all work itself out...hold on just a little longer and "Poof!" we're all gone into the clouds and everything wrong will be made right. Now, having said that I feel that I need to set up this next part...<br />
<br />
I grew up in a very rural community, in a very rural and conservative church. I cut my teeth on the King James Version and could recite the "thees" and "thous" with the best of them. It was all I had ever known, but as I've grown older I find myself stepping out of the conservatism in which I was raised. At first it scared me, I mean really scared me, but I've grown to embrace the transformation. That transformation, however, shook me to my core. Here's an example:<br />
<br />
1 Thessalonians 4:17, "Then we who are alive, who are left, will be caught up in the clouds together with them to meet the Lord in the air; and so we will be with the Lord forever." All of my life I had heard about how that was going to happen. We sang about it. I heard sermons on it. It was something I never questioned. That something was...the rapture. It is proclaimed as a time when God will say "enough is enough" and whisk the church away, removing us from any and all threat and harm. It's also, I believe, a myth. Before you start throwing things, let me explain. <br />
<br />
It's one verse, in one relatively obscure letter (I mean really, how many of us can flip right over to 1 Thessalonians? I have to thumb through the NT to get to it.) It is the only reference we have to any kind of escape plan when things around us get too tough. Rapture theology was developed by a man named John Nelson Darby in the 1830s and has little scriptural basis. On the other hand, though, we have multiple examples of times when Jesus told his disciples to get ready because stuff was about to happen. <br />
<br />
Matthew 5:44, "But I say to you, 'Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you.'"<br />
John 15:18, "If the world hates you, know that it has hated me before it hated you."<br />
Luke 6:22, "Blessed are you when people hate you and when they exclude you and revile you and<br />
spurn your name as evil, on account of the Son of Man."<br />
John 15:19, "If you were of the world, the world would love you as its own; but because you are <br />
not of the world, I chose you out of the world, therefore the world hates you."<br />
Mark 13:9, "But be on your guard. For they will deliver you over to councils, and you will be beaten<br />
in synagogues, and you will stand before governors and kings for my sake, to bear<br />
witness before them."<br />
<br />
Then in another place he tells them to take a sword with them. Then in another he tells them to be shrewd. Then he tells them that he is sending them out as lambs among wolves. Over and over again, Jesus tries to prepare the disciples for the battle in which they are about to engage. Only once, do we get even a slight reference to Jesus saying, "Nah, I'm not going to let them go through all that." <br />
<br />
Church, we have a job to do.<br />
<br />
When we say nothing in the face of the violence we saw this weekend, we say more than we think. When we stand by and let evil walk past we have done more than we may think. When our only battle cry is "Come Lord Jesus," we are shirking our responsibilities as kingdom builders.<br />
<br />
So, I'm a little angry.<br />
<br />
I'm angry that it's 2017 and we're still dealing with racism. I'm angry that Washington didn't seem to be angry. Honestly, after all of the things we've watched in the news I'm kind of angry that a group of white men can walk down a street carrying torches, chanting hate, and all of them were allowed to go back home to their families virtually unharmed, while a group of African American men doing the same thing might have seen a different outcome...and I'm a white guy. I'm angry that I felt the need to choose between political correctness and what needed to be said the day after an event like this. I'm even angry about folks in the church possibly getting angry over this blog post.<br />
<br />
But I'm not going to just sit and wait to be whisked away when things get tough, and if you haven't noticed, things are tough now. We have a story to tell about how God so loved the world, all of the world, even those in the world we don't agree with, and actually even those in the world who cause harm to others. That story is a love story open to people of all ages, nations, and races...and we have been called to tell that story over and over until hate is no more. The gospel of Christ was good news for the poor, marginalized, outcast, sinners, tax collectors, and anyone else in that time who was being made to feel less than a child of God by someone else. It was not good news for those who were already on the inside and chose to do nothing.<br />
<br />
A quote from the late Daniel Berrigan has haunted me from the first time I heard it; "If you're going to follow Jesus, you better look good on wood."<br />
<br />
Church, it's time. It's time to call evil what it is, to denounce those who only want to bring hate, fear, and division. It's time to remember our baptismal vows and stand in the gap for those who are suffering at the hands of others. It's time to show love in the face of hate, teach peace in the face of division, and offer forgiveness even to those we think unworthy of it. Ideological? Possibly. Impossible? Maybe. However, the difficulty of the task ahead does not give us an excuse to wait for God to fix everything. It's time to do anything that might help another discover their sacred worth...because...doing nothing is no longer an option. Jamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13091376561692615720noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4917382355345507520.post-73961598597911007862017-04-26T07:15:00.000-07:002017-04-26T11:24:15.514-07:00Unless...I'm frustrated. This is long, but stick with me. I own up front that this is mostly rant. <br />
<br />
In January of 2009 I got a phone call that has forever changed my life.<br />
<br />
"Jen is having some kind of seizure. They're taking her to the hospital by ambulance. Get here."<br />
<br />
Two months later I choked back tears as we sat in St. Louis Children's Hospital at Washington University. I was handed a business card, and I looked up and asked the nurse practitioner, "Why are we in the epilepsy center?" She looked at us and said, "Because your daughter has epilepsy." Light faded to dark. I could feel hope disappear. Flashes of the life we'd hoped for her ran through my head. The first image that came to my mind was from the third grade, as I watched a girl in the 4th grade laid out on the gym floor at Cuba Elementary, flopping like a fish out of water. That had been my only exposure to epilepsy. I will never get that image out of my mind. I remember her hobbling around school on crutches because she couldn't walk well. I knew she was in the "special" class. In 1980 there was a taboo surrounding epilepsy and I was so afraid that there still was. <br />
<br />
Not my daughter.<br />
<br />
This can't be real. I kept hoping for the "Because your daughter has epilepsy, but..." from the nurse practitioner but it never came. That appointment was followed by God only knows how many more, so many tests, so many disappointing results, and a total lack of answers as to why this was happening.<br />
<br />
Then the theologian in me kicked in and I started an eight year theodicy struggle. In the scriptures, most of the references to demonic possession were actually cases of undiagnosed epilepsy. Those stories talk about the "demon" throwing kids into fires to try to kill them, or God only knows what else. How could God let this happen? Why her? Why now? She's so young and this is going to change her world forever. She'll never drive a car. She'll never live independently. What about brain damage? What about memory loss? Will she ever be able to have kids? What's this going to mean for any future career?<br />
<br />
Anti-seizure medications by the handful. Side effects I don't even want to think about. Mood changes. Weight gain. Hair that fell out in clumps. This stuff was all happening to our baby girl and we were powerless to stop it. <br />
<br />
So we started reading. We read everything we could find on epilepsy. Medical journals. Chats. Forums. Websites. Anything that might offer some hope as to a way to control this disease, because there is no cure, we read and re-read, hoping for some connection. Yet every possible connection, every new hope, everything we tried...we'd wait...then the seizures would come again.<br />
<br />
Picture with me for just a minute. I'm standing in the kitchen cooking breakfast one morning and she walks through the room with that tell tale stare. I knew what was going to happen, so my first move was to get her on the couch. That way, when the seizure hit, at least she wouldn't fall and hurt herself. The next thing I see is my 18 year old daughter standing in front of me crying, with blood running down her face and off of her elbows. I cleaned blood out of her carpet for an hour and a half that morning. Every time I thought I had it out, more blood would come to the top.<br />
<br />
Then there was the time she seized and fell into the entertainment center. I grabbed her by the feet and pulled her out into the middle of the floor so that she would stop beating her head against the shelves on the bookcase. Or the time she seized in the shower and it was just she and I there. I pulled her out of the shower so she wouldn't drown, and there was my daughter, on the floor, flopping like a fish out of water...the exact same image I had in my head from 1980...playing in front of me in their bathroom.<br />
<br />
Those are just some of the times this demon has disrupted her life. Her mother could tell countless other horror stories.<br />
<br />
I'm saying all of that to say this...we as a society are so quick to jump into someone else's world and offer advice.<br />
<br />
Don't.<br />
Don't.<br />
Don't. It's not helpful. Don't offer any cliche's. Don't make a big deal of a seizure, but don't ignore it either. Don't say "Well, it could be worse." Absolutely do not say, "You just have to have faith that she is going to be healed." It's not that simple. Don't say, "At least it's not..." This one is less than helpful, "If I were you, I'd..." Why? Because you're not me...or her...<br />
<br />
See, we know all of those things. We know it could be worse. We know that there are folks who struggle with things way worse than epilepsy. We know what other folks have done and tried to treat this demon of a disease. We've read just about everything that has been written on every possible treatment. Don't argue politics about what's legal and what's not. And for the love of God don't argue theology with me.<br />
<br />
What you can do instead, and that might actually be helpful, is encourage. Remind those who are struggling that they are loved and supported. Offer to help if you know it's been a rough day. Talk to them about it, not about them to someone else. Let us be angry and/or frustrated. Be there. That's all you need to do. That's all we ask. Be an ear...be a calm presence...be a source of hope...<br />
<br />
I'm writing this, choking back tears, as we start yet one more treatment today to hopefully find her triggers. If we can just find the triggers, we can begin to control this damnable disease. As we do that, please be encouraging. That's all we have left.<br />
<br />
One last thing, unless you've been where we are (and I insert anyone here who is struggling with anything) do not offer me advice. <br />
<br />
<br />Jamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13091376561692615720noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4917382355345507520.post-13022878893454726312017-04-22T15:13:00.000-07:002017-04-22T15:13:05.403-07:00Who Will?"There's an opportune time to do things, a right time for everything on the earth..." (Ecclesiastes 3:1, The Message)<br />
<br />
I believe in seasons. Where I live, in Western Kentucky, we get to watch them change with a sure sense of consistency. Winter is followed by spring. Spring by summer. Summer by fall. Fall by winter. Then the cycle starts all over again. <br />
<br />
I'm learning that the same is true in life and in my work. Good times are followed by bad times. Bad times are followed by good times. Lows are followed by highs, and highs by lows. In my work as a pastor, there are seasons of great growth and spiritual renewal, followed by seasons of doubt and exhaustion. It happens. It's the nature of things. It no longer surprises me. <br />
<br />
However, when we find ourselves in one of the down times, and we will find ourselves there if we do this work long enough, we have two options, really. Either we continue on, waiting for the morning when we feel the winds begin to change, we notice the brightness of the colors outside our office windows again, and we find our purpose being restored...or, we give up and quit. Folks say that no pastor should ever resign on a Monday, and I get that, but they didn't say anything about a Wednesday or a Friday, and if we're honest, we've all been tempted. <br />
<br />
I've realized over the past 18 years of pastoral ministry that there are just going to be times when you want to throw in the towel and do something else. This is a tough work we are called to. There are times when the phone rings and it sends chills up your spine, or someone stops you to say, "Do you have a minute" and it makes you grit your teeth. I know that biting your tongue to keep from saying what you may want to say at times becomes exhausting. And, there are times when you are just one more meeting away from throwing a backpack in the truck and driving off into the sunset. BUT...I've also realized that this, too, is just part of it. <br />
<br />
Today something hit me like a brick between the eyes. <br />
<br />
This is the Saturday after Easter and Easter, for a pastor, is the busiest time of the year. I've spent this past week trying to get caught up on the things that had to wait while we were getting ready for Easter. My body is tired. My spirit is tired. My emotions are tired. Again, it's just part of it and I knew that when I signed up for this gig. <br />
<br />
What hit me today was actually something that I say every Sunday without fail. It's my benediction at the close of our worship service at Grace, and this week it became a reality for me. <br />
<br />
There is so much hurt in our world. There are so many people who feel like no one cares. There is so much wrong with so many systems. Our county's demographics paint a picture of struggle on a fairly large scale and, honestly, there are no easy answers. <br />
<br />
Because of what I do I find myself in situations that, before I went into the ministry, I'm not sure I even imagined as being real. Sometimes there is such a sense of need and urgency that it really can be overwhelming. Years ago, during a very similar season, I asked my mentor, "What do you do when the weight of carrying your people's burdens gets to heavy?" In an attempt to draw me out of the valley he said, "You go crazy like the rest of us." <br />
<br />
Today, I have found myself climbing out again. <br />
<br />
It started with a text. "Can I call you?" <br />
"Sure"<br />
<br />
I won't offer any details but the pain on the other end of the phone was real...more so than other phone calls I get. <br />
<br />
After I hung up the phone, these words hit me...<br />
<br />
"If we don't go...who will?"<br />
<br />
That's my benediction every Sunday as we close worship at Grace. I always tie it into whatever the message was about and I will say something like, '"they' don't know that there is a loving God just waiting for them." Or "'they' don't know that they are not the sum totals of their past mistakes." Or "'they' don't know that grace, forgiveness, and a new beginning can be theirs." Then I will say this, every week...<br />
<br />
"How will they know if they're not told? How will they be told if no one goes? And if we don't go, who will?"<br />
<br />
After I hung up the phone I almost began to weep because the God who called me into this work asked me that very same question as I was walking across my living room. "Jamie, they're hurting, and if you don't go who will?"<br />
<br />
Here's why it hit me... This really is exhausting work, but I don't mind the exhaustion. Three times this past week, that I know of, I've lost my patience in three different situations and it showed. I have seriously had to guard my words. I have had to just walk away for a few minutes. I've wanted to quit. It seemed like nothing matter, and in a very self-serving way I've wanted to ask, "What's the point?" Today, God began to restore my compassion, and it was very much needed. <br />
<br />
Occasionally, even we need that. We have given our lives to the work of the gospel, the Good News. We have taken vows to shepherd our flocks. We study. We listen. We pray. We plan. What I have found though, is that sometimes, the ones who need us the most get lost in all of the busy-ness that comes with our calling. Lately, that has happened to me, and for that, I ask forgiveness.<br />
<br />
I'm not even going to try to justify it by saying that I'm only human. I am. But that's not the point. I had forgotten why I got into this in the first place...it wasn't to fill up church pews or lead awesome meetings...it was because I could see how folks were hurting and I wanted to do something to help. I knew that something could only be found in the one who had called me. <br />
<br />
So, my clergy brothers and sisters, I feel your frustrations and your exhuastion. I know you cringe sometimes when your phone rings, as do I. I know our work seems to be never ending at times. But my prayer for myself and all of us is that we remember why we do what we do. Yes, we have mission statements and catch phrases, but there's also a word full of hurting people just outside our doors. How will they know they are the beloved of the Almighty if they're not told? How will they be told if no one goes? And if we don't go, who will?Jamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13091376561692615720noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4917382355345507520.post-89718878819415262752017-02-08T13:15:00.001-08:002017-02-08T14:36:30.553-08:00Grace in a guitar case. Monday morning...<br />
<br />
I walked out to my car after I got up, opened the door, and saw that it was gone. The "it" was my Epiphone DOT ES335, Gold Tone. Beautiful guitar. It's a semi hollow body, with gold knobs and tuners. Tobacco sunburst. Absolutely gorgeous...for a guitar. The strap was a Father's Day gift from my kids. Gone. I knew what had happened instantly. <br />
<br />
I immediately checked the other cars and the camper, then the garage. My car was the only one hit evidently. I came in the house, sent my neigbor a text and told him to check his vehicles. <br />
<br />
I was shaking. <br />
Furious.<br />
<br />
I knew what the guitar and strap cost, and knew it would be pointless to call my insurance company. They were gone. You hardly ever get things back once they've been stolen. <br />
<br />
My first stop was city hall. I needed to file a report. I told them about my car. Told them my neighbor's truck had been hit, too. While the clerk was on the phone with the sheriff's office, she told me that another neighbor had been hit, too. The thief actually broken into his garage. At least he didn't try to get into my house. <br />
<br />
After a pretty lengthy conversation with a deputy sheriff, and our city police chief, we started to put a few things together that might lead to an arrest. It was a long shot, but at least it was a shot. <br />
<br />
What really bothered me wasn't the guitar. I can buy another guitar. What bothered me was the fact that we were all asleep inside the house while someone was in our driveway going through my stuff. My sense of security was gone. You can't replace that. The police can't get it back. You can't buy it at the store. I've loaded my shotgun and put it within easy reach, made sure all of the windows are locked, and left the outside lights on, but that sense of security is still gone. <br />
<br />
Then I got a text from our police chief yesterday. They caught him. They found my guitar. My first thought was "I wonder how long they'll lock this guy up for?" Then I got a name. Then I looked him up on social media. Then I saw his face. He's just a kid...with a brand new baby. <br />
<br />
Suddenly, and for reasons I can't explain, everything changed. I wasn't mad anymore. I should have been. This kid came into my driveway, stole my guitar out of my car, and took away my family's sense of security. I wasn't mad anymore. Instead, I started thinking about that baby, and the picture of him holding her was seered into my brain. <br />
<br />
This morning I called our county attorney. She's a friend of mine. I told her that I wanted this kid to know, and I didn't understand why, but I wasn't mad at him; and that, as the victim here, I wanted to see him in rehab instead of jail. Monday morning I wanted to lock him up myself, but not now. <br />
<br />
The anger was gone, and today I want to see this kid get some help. I'm even willing to walk with him through the process. <br />
<br />
Now, before you start saying, "Look at what a good guy this dude is..." Don't. I'm not. If I had walked out Monday morning when my dog started barking and actually caught him in my car this story might have a completely different ending. It's just that something happened last night, and this morning, that I can't explain. Yes I can.<br />
<br />
See, church folk have this annoying little habit of just throwing bible verses at folks willy nilly. It enfuriates me. Many times, though, it's what we're known for. This week I've had the "turn the other cheek" text, something from Ephesians, and a general statement about the fact that I'm a pastor and I'm not supposed to let folks know I'm mad thrown in my face...by church folk. <br />
<br />
Screw that. <br />
It's not helpful. At all. <br />
And I promise you that it had absolutely nothing...zero...zilch...nada...to do with the fact that I woke up feeling differently about this kid today. <br />
<br />
Yes, I know that I'm held to a little higher standard, as screwed up as that is, but I just needed to be mad for a while. <br />
<br />
What church folks are not so great at sometimes, is compassion. Not just for folks who look, act, and live like we do...but for folks who feel that the only way they can get something to eat or a place to sleep is to steal from someone else. <br />
<br />
See, my job deals with grace...a lot. I talk about the God of second chances, third, fourth, fifth chances. If you're at Grace Church on any given Sunday morning you're going to hear something about grace. Why? Because that's the Good News. I deal with alchoholics, addicts, folks in recovery, folks with long criminal records, and folks still in jail. I've been lied to, lied about, thrown under the bus, called names, had my own name dragged through the mud, and that list goes on and on. But because of what I do, I try to look past that. Forgive and you shall be forgiven, right? It says something like that. <br />
<br />
Monday morning, I wanted none of that, though. Just being honest. I wanted this guy caught and punished to the fullest extent of the law. I wanted to hear the judge hand down the absolute maximum sentence. I felt violated. I was scared. I felt like I had lost all sense of control. <br />
<br />
Then last night I thought, "Maybe I can help this kid turn things around so that baby doesn't grow up without a daddy." I don't know if I can or not, but that's not the point. <br />
<br />
The point is...my anger, for reasons beyond my understanding, has turned into a sense of compassion for the very kid that stole from me. It makes no freaking sense. None at all...but that's where I am now. <br />
<br />
This Sunday's message is about community and kingdom accountability. We hold each other accountable for our actions. The things we do affect more than just us. But within community there is also support. <br />
<br />
The lesson for me in all of this is more than the fact that I'm the pastor and I'm not supposed to cuss when I'm mad or scared. Some folks think that. The lesson for me is that when folks are at a point in their life when the only path they see is one of illegal activities, or if they've been caught in addictions, or if they've finally hit rock bottom and actually survived, that's when they need us the most. <br />
<br />
WWJD?<br />
<br />
I can't say for certain, but I have a feeling that he would have looked at this kid, said "Don't do it again," and gotten him some help. That's just a guess. Jamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13091376561692615720noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4917382355345507520.post-83347314913996455862016-11-29T21:03:00.002-08:002017-02-08T14:35:56.566-08:00A Different AngleHave you ever had one of those days that had you scratching your head nearly constantly? You know what I mean. One of those days where it seems like everything you see makes you want to just close the curtains, lock the door, and forget that you're part of this spinning orb...even just for a little bit? It's not been anything earth shattering, but I've been told that I can't post anything on social media tonight, so I'm going to write for a few. If you need a distraction because life is treating you like a repeat root canal, or you just can't figure out...well, never mind. If you want to keep reading, come with me and see where this goes. If you don't, Big Bang is on TV and it's a great episode right now. I'll still love ya.<br />
<br />
So, here it goes. It's no secret that I'm a pastor, and have been for over 17 years. It's also no secret that I'm a non-traditionalist. Honestly, I have no clue where that came from. My mom and dad raised me right. I was born into a very traditional, very rural, very conservative, wonderful little church. I loved those folks and they loved me like one of their own. We had a slight falling out during my teen years and I moved on to become part of another congregation. Then, years later, I was actually sent by my Bishop back to that little country, conservative, traditional, rural church...of which I had been born into years before...to serve as their pastor. It was great. I could not have asked for a better place to spend my first year in ministry. That being said, I honestly have no clue why I am the way that I am. <br />
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I am a non-traditionalist. That doesn't mean that I don't value tradition. I do very much. It was what formed me in the faith during my growing up years. It's just that I think I've gotten to a place in my life where I don't idolize tradition like I once did. Now, I think that I just view things from a different angle. Honestly, sometimes that makes me feel somewhat the freak. Bear with me for a few and I'll explain. <br />
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I don't accept everything at face value anymore. Before seminary all of my training and education were in the sciences. My Bachelor degree is in biology. I spent most of my college career in the streams, forests, and fields of Western Kentucky, catching insects, fish, and reptiles, and classifying plants. I think that caused me to go into my theological education with a desire to know the where, why, how, and when. So, as a pastor, I've tried to carry that into my conversations, leadership style, and preaching.<br />
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I'm also not a very deep thinker. Systematic theology? I stink at it. Jesus said, "Love God with everything you have, and love others the way you love you." That I can wrap my head around. Paul's eschatology, or his resurrection theology, are a little more of a struggle for me. <br />
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Now, that being said...I also feel like I may be in the minority. Because of that I feel like the kid that no one wants to play with sometimes. Not that it's completely a bad thing...it's just a struggle sometimes. It's wonderfully freeing for me, because I feel like I am finally at a place in my life where I understand a little of what's going on inside my head. Yet, at the same time, it can be terribly frustrating. <br />
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As a pastor, my job is to make disciples of Jesus Christ for the transformation of the world, who then go out and make disciples of Jesus Christ for the transformation of the world. But part of my job is to also lead the church to which I am appointed. Part of leading the church to which I am appointed involves trying to figure out ways to bring the gospel to a hurting world, and maybe, if I'm lucky, see folks start coming to worship. Granted, that is a by-product, and not the goal, but still. It kind of is. <br />
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The struggle is this: church signs and social media. Sometimes they make my job next to impossible because folks see things on church signs, or posted on social media, and think "If that's what the Church is like, I don't want any part of it." What I'm trying to do is show folks that it really has nothing to do with the church as an institution, but about how different their life can be once they say "Yes" to a relationship with the God of all creation. <br />
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Today, true story...I saw a church sign that said, "He was born. He died. He rose. Your turn." <br />
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Honest. <br />
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Now, as a theologian, I think I understand what they were trying to say. Christmas is the time we celebrate the birth. Good Friday is when we recognize the cost of our salvation. Easter is when we celebrate the fact that death does not get the last word. I get that. "Your turn," is an invitation to make a decision on living a new life because of what Christ did on the cross. I understand. Honest. But...a four line church sign saying that, where folks are going to see it at 55 mph, scratch their head and move on...really isn't helpful. "Your turn..." Wait, it's my turn to be born, die, and rise again? What? <br />
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And then social media. Help us, sweet Jesus. It absolutely breaks my heart to hear about the total devastation that happened this weekend in Eastern Tennessee. Such loss of natural beauty, not to mention the loss of wildlife, and the cost to rebuild. Forest fires wipe out everything in their path. So do tornadoes, hurricanes, floods, straight line winds, earthquakes, and the list goes on. They are destructive on a level that most folks can't even comprehend unless you have been affected by them. I can't imagine, personally. What they aren't however...they're not necessarily of God. For the souls whose lives are lost in any natural disaster, God's heart breaks. I believe that. What I can't believe is that God would take a life, be it human or lower animal, and use that to convince folk to "Get ready," if you know what I mean. The wildfires that just destroyed a huge chunk of the Smoky Mountains, and this is just a guess, were probably caused by some idiot with a match, and fueled by 80 mph wind gusts. They were not a sign of the end times, nor were they a judgement on humanity. But that's just Jamie. <br />
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Since this was titled "A different angle," I feel that I now have to present one. One line church sign sermons are never a good idea because so often they are scriptures posted that are taken completely out of context, or worst case, they're just cheesy. Folks see through that, and will probably be even less likely to give your worshipping congregation a shot. If you have a sign and need to post something, try this, "Come and see." It's the invitation Jesus gave two of the would be disciples, and because of those three words, two men went on to help turn the world upside down. <br />
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Social media...just because you can post it doesn't mean you should. I will defend to the death your right to believe anything you want to believe, but promise me you'll do some biblical interpretation...no, biblical exegesis...before you post something relating scripture to natural disasters. To do solid biblical exegesis, go to a commentary, see what was going on when that text was written...look for who it was written to...see if you can figure out why the author wrote it down in the first place. The families of those who lose their lives in any natural disaster, or who have seen their worlds completely destroyed by the same, do not need to know that you think God was using this to get people's attention, and hopefully get them to "turn so they don't burn."<br />
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Now, why did I do this? Not because I'm a jerk. I may be, but that's not why I did this. I wrote this because I'm frustrated. I've given my life to a call to ministry and making a difference in the world. I've seen the damage that churches can do in the lives of folks who feel that they are different. I want people to think for themselves about who they are as children of the Almighty, and what that might meant for the way they live their lives, instead of just swallowing what is spoon fed to them. I've seen the systems that keep folks from becoming part of a worshipping body, and want to do all I can to bring them down. Why? Because people, and the souls of those same people, are too important. Feeling like you have no place to belong is devastating. Being made to feel guilty, or less than, because you think differently is wrong. <br />
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As I've been working on this Sunday's message the last two days, one of the things that keeps coming to mind is that Jesus keeps showing up, unexpected, to the folks who feel like they are the most unworthy, but who need him the most. Many times, it's those of us who are already on the inside, who...with good intentions, no doubt...prevent that from happening. <br />
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So, I guess this is a shout out to my fellow "outside the box" kind of folk. Not all of us church folk are like what you see on church signs or posting on social media. Most of us are trying to figure all of this out just like you are. Most of us know that we are sinners in need of grace. Many of us crave the freedom to think for ourselves but don't feel safe doing so. We want to dig into these ancient, beautiful stories and see what they said to the people who heard them first, and what they can say to us all of these years later. A lot of us cringe when we see things on church signs or posted on social media because we understand how it's going to make you feel. And probably all of us ask that you don't judge us on the actions of a few. <br />
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If that's you, hit me up. I'd love to sit down and talk with you. I promise that I won't push a churchy agenda. I will not judge you for the metal in your face or the color you dyed your hair. We'll compare tattoos if you want. I just want the opportunity to tell you about this guy who finally convinced me that I'm not the sum total of my past mistakes. That's a church sign quote I could get behind. <br />
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Ok, rant is over. Just don't get me started on neck ties. <br />
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Peace,<br />
JJamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13091376561692615720noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4917382355345507520.post-57914886508403071082016-09-29T07:35:00.001-07:002016-09-29T07:35:15.470-07:00When the warm fuzzies go coolThat's when I realized I was in trouble.<br />
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I'm sitting in Leawood, Kansas at the Church of the Resurrection, I think the largest UMC in the denomination. I'm not sure. This week nearly 2000 church leaders are sitting in this room, waitng to learn how to be better leaders. <br />
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The band warmed up. Worship started. The audio was perfect. The lights went down. The lyrics popped on the screen. Everything that we have thought was important for great, progressive, cutting edge worship was in place. <br />
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As I sat here, it hit me...nothing. I felt nothing. Instead I was looking around at the folks who were trickling in. I was thinking about all of the things I needed to do when I get back. I don't sleep well on the road and the last two nights have just reinforced that. I had absolutely nothing as worship started. <br />
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The warm fuzzies that have kept me going for the last 17 years were cold. Nothing. Nada. Zilch. Then I thought, "I'm in trouble. I mean, really in trouble. Something is bad wrong." <br />
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I've been trying, honestly. I've cut back on time spent in the office. I'm trying to find my joy in the things I used to do. I'm trying to take time for self care, you know, a regular day off, Sabbath rest, less of the unhealthy and more of the healthy. But...I just now realized that I'm not sure it's working. <br />
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Now, let me clarify, I love my job. I love the church I serve. We are doing things as a group that I've not seen done in a lot of other churches. We're reaching people that others don't want anything to do with. I love my God, and I'm thankful for the call on my life. I can't imagine ever doing anything else, except for the occasional day when I'd trade my church keys for a burger stand on the side of the road. Hey, it happens. I just own it. <br />
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But...I know I'm not alone in realizing that sometimes the warm fuzzies go cold. We burn out. We crash. We don't feel the same we did when this ministry gig was new. We may even find ourselves questioning whether or not we even need to be doing it. Then we have a moment where we that realization slaps us in the face, and we have a decision to make...<br />
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Do we keep pushing, knowing that we are operating at the very edges of our limitations? Folks, that's ego. Pure and simple. <br />
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Or, do we take that moment of realization, that epiphany, the revelation that maybe something is out of whack, and use it as a catalyst to begin some major changes in our lives? <br />
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Let me get real for a minute. If you are a church leader, as I am...and if you are not taking the necessary time to take care of yourself...I'm not either...you are doing your people, your family, your denomination, the kingdom, yourself, and the God who called you a great disservice. <br />
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We are not all that and a bag of chips. <br />
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There are people in our churches who can do some of the things we think we have to do, and they can do them well. Let them. <br />
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I know your type. I am one. I know how passionate you used to be about your calling. I know how hard you worked to get through school and jump through all of the hoops. I know how many meals get interrupted by phone calls, and how many vacations get cut short because of emergencies. <br />
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I know. <br />
I get it. <br />
Trust me. <br />
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I know how you've laid awake at night worrying about how your church was going to make budget, or about the metrics, or why folks are leaving. I know what is going on in your head, and how you think that if you just work a little harder, or a little longer, or if you do this or that, things will get better. Well, guess what...it's not about you...or me. We are tools God is using to build the kingdom. <br />
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I know that you may be thinking now, "I'm not feeling it as much either, lately." Why are you not feeling it? My guess is that, like me, you've been running on empty for so long that you can't remember what it's like to serve out of your passion. Instead you've become an empty vessel, still trying to pour out for others what you no longer have for yourself. Know what? You (we) can't do it. <br />
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I want it back. I want that feeling and that passion back. I want to serve my God and my church out of the passion I had in the beginning. But...for me to do that, for me to reclaim that place, there are some things that have to change. I'm not answering my phone after 5 or 6 at night unless it's an emergency. I'm going to fight the urge to go check into the office on my day off. I'm working on a plan that will let me take the entire month of January off for renewal. I've had to save vacation for it, but I honestly think that it will be worth it. <br />
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I'm not a touchy feely kind of guy, even though I'm probably more emotional than most guys. I have, however, learned to pay attention to those gut feelings, and today, this is what that gut feeling said, "Jamie, you're in trouble. Fix it. Now." <br />
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So church leader, you're doing great things. Your people need you, but they need you to take care of yourself. If you're struggling with some of the things I've talked about here, send me a facebook message. We'll talk. <br />
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Ya know, even just writing all of this down makes me feel a little better. Hopefully this is the beginning of my own personal rediscovery. Hopefully, you've seen yourself in this and will become intentional about your own. The kingdom is counting on us. Jamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13091376561692615720noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4917382355345507520.post-27285994678541435302016-09-17T17:36:00.001-07:002016-09-17T17:45:38.044-07:00$2 Can I get $3 - Reflections on an estate auctionI process through writing, and have for a lot of years now.<br />
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This has been an unusually rough summer. Over three months I've had one reminder after another that nothing stays the same. First came the loss of my hunting buddy, Richard. He was nearly 40 years older than I am but we had so much fun together. That was the message I tried to bring when I was asked to officiate his funeral. Next came the loss of my Grandmother within a couple weeks. At her funeral I tried to step out of the grandson mode and into pastor mode so that I would be able to officiate that day. Four days later came the loss of my grandmother-in-law. Though we weren't blood related, she had been a grandmother to me for 27 years. <br />
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Today, we had my Grandmother's estate auction. This was the second auction my family and I had gone through together, the first being the day Grandma sold their farm and moved to town. I thought today would be easier. I was wrong. <br />
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I'm thankful for the folks who came out for the auction, but at the same time, it was hard to see their things laid out on a table and hear those words over and over again, "Two dollars, can I get three?" The reality is...it was all just stuff...trinkets...household items...and angels. Grandma loved angels. To most folks that's all it was...just stuff. And the auctioneer, God bless him, had to work hard to even get the $3 sometimes. Some of the things auctioned off today, I didn't even know Grandma had. Some of it, though, as soon as I laid eyes on it, after who knows how many years since I saw it last, a flood of memories overtook me. <br />
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A corn-silk brush...I'm not sure you can even still buy those...buried in a box of kitchen utensils...took me back immediately to when I was a kid, and how summer after summer, we'd spend days sitting under the pine trees in their back yard, watching Grandma brush ear after ear of sweet corn and pick the silks off of it. <br />
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A worn and rusted putty knife...also buried in a box of other random items...made me stop and think about all of the hours that putty knife must have spent in my Granddaddy's or my Grandma's hands. Their hands had worn the handle on that knife smooth. <br />
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A little blue rubber ball...tucked inside a tote filled with matchbox cars and children's books...made me remember the last couple years of Granddaddy's life, and how we'd sit in their living room while he tossed that little blue ball to my baby girls. <br />
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An ancient folding card table...left almost for last and just tossed in with a bunch of other stuff...wasn't just a card table, it was Christmas and Thanksgiving dinners as the family began to grow.<br />
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$2, can I get $3?<br />
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Emotionally, I'm wiped out. Completely. I'm man enough to admit that I have cried more this summer than I have in a long time, and it happened again today. Maybe I'm just too damned sentimental for my own good. Perhaps I should try to be more practical. So in that spirit, I offer this:<br />
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It's not the stuff. It's really not. I probably have a dozen putty knives of my own buried in one toolbox or another. I can pick up a little blue ball for a dollar in just about any store. Card tables? I already had one...and the chairs to go with it. It's not the stuff. <br />
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It's the memories tied to the stuff. <br />
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Part of me is very thankful that the things my grandparents worked for and accumulated over their lifetimes have now been given new life with new owners. No, really, I am. Was it hard to watch? Yes. But, I couldn't have bought everything, even if I wanted to, nor should I have. Why? Because it's not about the stuff. <br />
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I'm so thankful that I was able to spend enough time with them, growing up, so that a worn out corn-silk brush meant what it meant to me today. I'm thankful that my grandparents had the work ethic they did to even wear the handle smooth on a putty knife. I'm so very thankful for that little ball, so that I can tell my girls, as long as I have breath, just how much their Daddy James enjoyed tossing that ball to them.<br />
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When my time comes, and it's coming, I want my life to be more than stuff spread out on an auction table. I want my kids to look at all of that stuff and say, "Do you remember how he used to...?" Or, "Do you remember how he used to use this for...?" Or, "Do you remember how this always sat by his chair?" It's not about the stuff. It's about what the stuff brings to mind for those of us who are left behind. <br />
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During the auction today, I said that the whole experience was making me want to just give everything I own away and live the rest of my life out of a dufflebag... because estate auctions suck. I think I've changed my mind...not about estate auctions themselves, they still suck, but about the emotions surrounding that day. <br />
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Was it difficult? Good Lord, yes. Was it painful? At times. But...every kitchen utensil...my grandmother had used to fix a holiday meal. The putty knife...one of them had used it to fix something instead of throwing it out and buying a new one. The little ball...my kids knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that their great-grandparents loved them dearly. <br />
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So I leave you with this, it's a challenge to live the rest of your days in such a manner that when the auctioneer says, "$2, can I get 3?" the stuff on the table will be priceless to your family. Then let someone else take that $3 box and use it to do the same for their family. <br />
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Jamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13091376561692615720noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4917382355345507520.post-31599999107511094722016-08-04T14:30:00.001-07:002016-08-04T18:48:56.894-07:00Theological Reflections From a Tattoo Parlor...<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-KJHAZ4o4RZs/V6Oz3AjRSMI/AAAAAAAAAb8/W6qeUFFSPUsYeGDEz7VW7OXnO0ae-fynwCLcB/s1600/tattoo-parlor1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="167" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-KJHAZ4o4RZs/V6Oz3AjRSMI/AAAAAAAAAb8/W6qeUFFSPUsYeGDEz7VW7OXnO0ae-fynwCLcB/s320/tattoo-parlor1.jpg" width="320" /></a>So, this isn't your typical preacher type thing...but I'm not a typical preacher type. <br />
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My oldest daughter, Jen, has been asking for a tattoo since she was 15. She is now 20. I told her all those years ago that when she decided what she really wanted, and could tell me why she really wanted it...and after she turned 18...I'd take her to get her first ink. I also told her that I'd get another one when she did. That would make 4 for me. <br />
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Jen was diagnosed with epilepsy when she was 12, so this was something that she wanted, and a part of her life that she might actually have a little control over. Some parents, and especially some preacher dads, might have thrown a fit over it, but it was fine with me. <br />
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Yesterday, I went to the shop where I had my other three done to set up an appointment. Hank, the artist, asked me if we wanted to just do them last night, so I went home, got Jen, and we came back to get inked. <br />
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While we were waiting for him to finish with the client before us, I was people watching. It's one of my favorite things to do. I love to see how folks interact with each other in different settings, and since so many church folks have lived relatively sheltered lives (in some cases) it's a way for me to bring the rest of the world into my homiletics. <br />
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The tattoo parlor crowd isn't your typical Sunday morning crowd. And if you lead a church, I encourage you to just visit a parlor and get to know some of the folks. It's kind of eye opening. Here's why...<br />
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First, the racial diversity when we got there was split just about 50/50. Today, especially, anywhere you can find that kind of diversity and everyone is getting along, spend some time in that place. That by itself was pretty cool. <br />
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Next, there were some folks who came in who, you could tell, struggled with the necessities of life. Some folks might judge them for "wasting" money on ink when there were so many other things that they might need the money for worse. In this case, though, the ink was a cover up from a bad decision earlier in life. That reminded me to be a little slower to judge...or not judge at all. <br />
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After that I noticed a couple of young guys come in on motorcycles. I know what you're thinking....and yes, they were on bikes...and yes, their language was more than just a little colorful...and yes, they were inked...and one of them even had a small bottle of cinnamon whiskey on him...but when they walked in, everyone in that place knew them and welcomed them in like family. For them, that was a place where they knew they fit in, and they belonged. That made me wonder how many churches would have given them the same kind of welcome. <br />
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Then there was Pat. Pat looked like anyone's grandma, but in that little shop, she was treated like family. You could tell she didn't have much. She had lost her husband a few years ago and gotten a tattoo as a memorial. This year she came back to get some work added to it. Watching Hank interact with Pat while he was working and she was just standing there talking, made me wish I could talk to my Grandma again. You wouldn't expect to see your Grandma in a tattoo parlor, but there she was, and she was one of them. It was beautiful. <br />
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Then, came a young woman from the back of the parlor. I'd never met her before. I'd never seen her before. She came out to offer our artist something to eat for supper. If you're at all familiar with the life of a tattoo artist, a regular schedule is not something they enjoy very often. He stopped for a minute and fixed a sandwich. Then...get this...she looked at us, two people she'd never seen before, and said, "Here, fix a sandwich. You may be here a while." She didn't offer just once, but three times, and was almost insistent that we fix a sandwich from the BBQ they had bought earlier in the day. Did I mention that we had never met? It made me stop and think about what hospitality really looks like, and what it means to really welcome the stranger. <br />
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Finally, it was our turn to get in the chair. Jen was nervous and wanted me to go first so she could watch. I sat down. Hank set the template on my foot and got ready to start outlining my Jolly Roger. The two guys on the bikes, from earlier, came back in and talked to me just like they'd known me all of their lives. One of them joked about my pink T-shirt, and I joked back about it taking a real man to pull off that look. I'd never seen either of them and we were cutting up and laughing like we had gone to school together. They wanted to see my tattoo when Hank was finished with it. An hour and half later, I was done, and it was Jen's turn. <br />
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She sat down in the chair, scared to death. As bad as mine hurt, I didn't flinch or make any noise because I knew she was watching and was already nervous. Hank set her template, they got it situated where she wanted it, and he went to work. Jay, the other artist in the shop, came up from the back and he and I talked with Jen to keep her distracted. Jay spent a half hour just standing there talking to us while she got her first tattoo. That made me wonder about the other things he might have needed to be doing for that half hour, but instead, he stood there with us. That was pretty cool. <br />
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Now for the theological reflection part. <br />
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A T-shirt covers my first three tattoos. If I have on a shirt, you'd never know I had any ink. That was intentional because of what I do for a living. I know that some church folk are not crazy about their preacher having tattoos, so it's not something I push into others' faces. When we walked in, we walked into a world that some folks never see, and probably wouldn't know how to handle if they did. There is this stigma that, while not as prevalent now as in years past, is still attached to those with tattoos, those who are tattoo artists, and tattoo parlors. Let's just be honest...for some, there is still this image of a tattoo parlor as some back alley underground, full of people who some see as less than, and there's nothing but drug sales and drinking going on. <br />
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In some places, that may be true. But it's also true in some schools, grocery stores, just about any other business setting you can think of, and (gulp) the homes of some church folk. What I saw last night, was the exact kind of welcome we read about in the gospels. Jesus ruined his reputation with church folk by hanging out with folks they snubbed their noses at. He was accused of being a glutton and a drunkard, and if you've read any of the gospels, he never denied it. Not once. He only told stories to defend his actions. <br />
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"Let's say a shepherd has 100 sheep, just hypothetically, and he loses one. He will leave the 99 and go look for the one, and when he finds it, he throws this huge party because he's so happy that one sheep isn't lost anymore."<br />
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"Let's say a woman has 10 coins...just hypothetically...and she loses one. She'll stay up all night, turning the house upside down until she finds it. When she finds it, she calls everyone she knows, invites them over, and throws this huge party because she found the one coin."<br />
<br />
"Let's say a dad has two boys. One of them tells him, 'Dad, I wish you were dead. Let me have my inheritance now.'" Then he goes off and blows it on alcohol and hookers. When he realizes how broke he is, and that he can't even buy lunch, he decides to go back home and beg his dad to let him come back. But...and check this out...before he even gets close to the house, his dad sees him, way down the road, and literally runs to him, throws his arms around his neck and tells somebody to start the party because his boy was gone and is back home." <br />
<br />
Here's the deal. I'm a 17 year veteran of the ministry as a career. I'm an Elder in Full Connection in the United Methodist Church. I've served 11 churches over 6 appointments. Last night I was treated better, and made to feel more welcome, than in some of the churches I've served. It's just the truth. Three of the people in that place last night, only one of which I knew his first name before I got there, welcomed us in and made us feel like we were family. When we left, sometime after midnight, they told us, "It was cool to hang out with y'all." Wow. <br />
<br />
Why in God's name can we not do that in ALL of our churches? Why do we have to judge folks because of what they wear? Who said a tattoo makes you a bad person? Where does it say, in any of Jesus' teachings, to build a little brick building, stack it with pews and all things religious, then decide who can come in and who can't? I haven't found it yet. It may be there, but I haven't seen it yet. <br />
<br />
Just last week I was told, "You wouldn't last 30 minutes as our pastor with those tattoos." Really? That's what we've turned the most amazing story in the history of the world into? In so many places, we've taken the greatest story ever told and turned into our personal possession, leaving no room for anyone who doesn't look like, think like, act like, or live like us. I just think we've missed the point. <br />
<br />
WWJD? What would Jesus do? I can't speak for Jesus, but given what I've read in the Gospels, I'm thinking that Jesus would get off of his padded pew, take off his suit and tie, put on some street clothes, and go hang out at a tattoo parlor. I think he'd watch folks when they came in, find a way to connect, start up a conversation, and just be. I think he'd offer them a BBQ sandwich, whether he knew their name or not. I think he'd just stand there and talk to folks. He'd probably talk about his favorite band. He might even go back and get a tattoo, who knows? <br />
<br />
WWJD? What wouldn't Jesus do? I can't speak for Jesus, but given what I've read in the Gospels, I'm thinking that Jesus wouldn't make anyone who came through the doors of that tattoo parlor feel less than. I don't think he'd flinch much when they dropped the F bomb. I'm not
sure he would have taken the little bottle of cinnamon whiskey and told
the guy that he ought not do that. I'm not sure he'd judge them. And I doubt very seriously that he'd look down his nose at them. <br />
<br />
Oh, one more thing that I think he would do. I think, that when he made a connection with someone in a tattoo parlor, and who maybe for the first time in their lives felt like they were someone of sacred worth, he'd tell someone else to go and get the party started because this one who was lost has been found. <br />
<br />
My prayer is that anyone who walks through any church door anywhere in the world, is made to feel as welcome as we were last night in a tattoo parlor. That's my prayer. <br />
<br />
<br />Jamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13091376561692615720noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4917382355345507520.post-34559591437613813962016-07-22T14:08:00.000-07:002016-07-22T14:08:10.952-07:00Theology of the Riparian Zone For the past 17 years, I have been a theologian. It's more than just a calling. It's also my profession. Early in my career, a well meaning parishioner told me one Sunday, "Now, don't you go off and let that seminary change you." I understand what he was saying, and I respect the fact that he was afraid that seminary would make me unapproachable and less the people's pastor. Well, seminary did change me, but not in the way that he feared. <br />
<br />
Before seminary, though, my background was in the sciences. I know, it's still kind of funny to me, too. I hold an Associate of Science and a Bachelor of Biology. Most of the time those two parts of me live rather independently of each other. My focus for my undergrad work was primarily fisheries biology. Instead of sticking around one more semester to take the one final class I needed for a fisheries degree, I opted for an elective and finished with a degree in biology. I was one class away from a degree in fisheries, but I needed to get on to seminary because I was already the old man in class. <br />
<br />
In fisheries systems, the Riparian Zone is the margin where land meets water. It's basically where two worlds collide. It's also an ecosystem all to itself. There are animals who thrive in the Riparian Zone because they require elements from both worlds to survive. They may breed in the water, spend their early life as aquatic animals, but then move onto land as adults. There are species of plants that grow only in the Riparian Zone. There are insects that you may only encounter along the margin between land and water. <br />
<br />
Why is this important? Well, to most folks it's probably not, and if you're still reading this you're either really bored or curious as to how it will all tie together. <br />
<br />
As a theologian, with a science background, I understand the reality that not everyone lives in the same world, even though we inhabit the same planet, country, state, or community. In the space where more than one world collides, things can tend to get complicated...and sometimes, ugly. People living, sometimes, within a few miles of each other can experience the world around them in totally different ways simply because of the environment in which they exist. <br />
<br />
I saw this yesterday. <br />
<br />
A friend of mine called me out on something I said yesterday on Facebook. It happens a lot, actually. It doesn't mean that I have any hard feelings toward anyone who does it. It simply means that we don't necessarily agree on whatever the topic is. And...that's ok. How boring would this world be if everyone agreed on everything?<br />
<br />
Basically, I was accused of race baiting, was told that as a community leader this was inappropriate, and that my comment and the hashtag #stopthehate both bred division at a time when I should be calling for unity. I respect that opinion. I don't agree with it, but I respect it. Here's why...<br />
<br />
It was a call to unity. <br />
<br />
In my 45 years I have never seen racial tensions as high as they are now. I missed the Civil Rights movement of the 50's and 60's by just a few years. Today, people are afraid, and some maybe rightly so. But racial tensions are not the only tensions that exist now. There is fear and religious tension between Christians and Muslims. There are tensions between straights and gays. My own denomination is struggling with that right now. Forget the fact that it's an election year with all of the political tension that's been added to the mix. <br />
<br />
But I'm a theologian...a pastor...and a community leader. So, what am I to do? <br />
<br />
If I follow the example of Christ, I'm to spend more time in the proverbial Riparian Zone than in my comfort zone. I feel that I'm to stand up for those living in the margins. I feel that I'm to be a voice for those who feel as if no one is listening. I feel that it's my responsibility as a follower, to be an agent of change, and to call out those systems that keep people marginalized. If race is the issue, I feel that it's my obligation as a leader in the church to use my position to bring equality. Whether we want to admit it or not, white privilege exists. What I can't do is ignore the voices from those on the outside. <br />
<br />
Unfortunately, sometimes that's not a very popular stand. <br />
<br />
See, a lot of folks have an image of Jesus as this passive guru who never raised his hand to anyone and only talked about grace. He talked about grace...a lot...but societal injustices evidently infuriated him. He died for people on the margins. Everything he did pointed to the fact that as long as there were injustices, and there were, God's kingdom had not yet come.<br />
<br />
Well, the truth is...there still are. <br />
<br />
So, though I've never considered myself an apologist for my faith, in that I've never really felt the need to defend my faith, today I am. I think very carefully about the words that I use because I know the weight they might carry simply because of who I am. But...at my ordination as an Elder in Full Connection in the UMC, a red stole was placed on my shoulders, representing the mantle of Christ. That's something I take very seriously. <br />
<br />
Until something as divisive as a #stopthehate hashtage is no longer needed...<br />
Until those who feel their voices don't matter are heard...<br />
Until violence no longer begets violence...<br />
Until people feel safe in their own neighborhoods...<br />
Until there is no longer an "us" and "them"...<br />
Until the day when the human race can finally come together as one...I will continue to use my calling and my position to stand up for those on the margins. <br />
<br />
A quote from the late Father Dan Berrigan has haunted me from the moment I first heard it:<br />
<br />
"If you're going to follow Jesus, you had better look good on wood."<br />
<br />
<br />Jamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13091376561692615720noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4917382355345507520.post-13122398120871901082016-07-07T16:42:00.000-07:002016-07-07T16:50:18.435-07:00I Am Philemon...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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"Paul, a prisoner of Christ Jesus, and Timothy our brother, to Philemon our dear friend and co-worker, to Apphia our sister, to Archipus our fellow soldier, and to the church in your house:<br />
Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ."<br />
(Philemon 1:1-3)<br />
<br />
Last month I brought a series of messages at Grace Church LaCenter called, "The Stories We Haven't Heard." The title was a tad misleading, in that most of them were stories we had indeed heard, we just don't hear them often. A better working title would have been "Obscure stories," but someone had already done that one. <br />
<br />
I pulled a couple Old Testament texts, and a couple from the New Testament. I had a few others in que, just in case one or more of my choices didn't pan out. It turned out to actually be a fun series to write, because it took more research than usual. <br />
<br />
One of those messages on one obscure story was from the Book of Philemon. I'm not sure we can really call it a book, since it was only one page, one chapter, and only 25 verses. I'm not even sure we can call it a short story, much less, a book. It is, in fact, a letter. It's a letter that Paul wrote to a specific group of people, in a specific geographical area, at a specific time in history, for a specific purpose. As we read these sacred texts all of these years later, that is one thing we absolutely must keep in mind. <br />
<br />
I told my congregation that even though it was a letter written to a group of people who, by the way, wasn't us...there is still much it can say to us. <br />
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To get the gist of the letter, in case you haven't read it lately, Paul is writing to Philemon about his runaway slave, Onesimus. The hand of fate had somehow brought Onesimus into Paul's company, and they had evidently become quite close. Paul calls him, "my own heart." That's a pretty endearing phrase. In that culture, Philemon had the legal and social right, from what I understand, to kill Onesimus simply for running away. Paul is writing to discourage that, and to encourage Philemon to welcome Onesimus as a brother in Christ, not as a slave, and certainly not as a runaway slave. <br />
<br />
It's Paul at some of his best writing. It's a beautiful letter, tender, gentle, and written from a pastor's heart. You can see that in almost every word Paul writes. It's not head heavy with theology that no one can possibly understand, but instead, addresses something that many of us may have experienced, or at the very least, have been made aware of lately. How? Social media can do wonders for letting you know what's going on in the world. <br />
<br />
As I read one post after another from my news feed, and as I studied that little letter from Paul (If indeed Paul wrote it) something hit me...<br />
<br />
...I'm Philemon. <br />
<br />
Let me explain. <br />
<br />
My news feed actually represents a more diverse group than most folks would expect from me. My social media "friends" are white, black, gay, straight, undecided, rich, poor, country, city, conservative, liberal, ultra conservative, ultra liberal, some hold several degrees, some barely graduated high school, addict, clean, Republican, Democrat, Libertarian, Independent, Northern, Southern, East Coast, West Coast, somewhere in between, yuppie, redneck, and I could keep going. <br />
<br />
What that means is that I see posts representing every possible opinion, and honestly, I respect them all. I don't agree with some of them, but I still respect them. Here's what hit me as I let those two things (my newsfeed, and my reflections on Philemon) come together. <br />
<br />
I'm Philemon. I have no clue what it means to be Onesimus. None...whatsoever. To bring that statement forward nearly 2000 years, all I know (and I mentioned this in my message about this text) is life from the perspective of a middle class, white, heterosexual, fairly educated, southern, Christian, male perspective. I have no idea what it's like to be gay, or black, or female, or non-Christian, or any of a number of other things that would make me anything but a white guy, middle class, straight, southern, and Christian. I have no idea what it's like to be hated because of the color of my skin, or because I love differently than the majority. <br />
<br />
I am Philemon. <br />
<br />
Now, here's why that's important. As a Philemon character type, I (and others like me) have something that some do not have. Stay with me for a minute. I (we) own the ability to welcome any who are not like me (us). We (I) also own the ability to NOT welcome any who are not like me (us). Is that fair? No. Is it a reality? Yes. <br />
<br />
How will anyone who is not like us know which we will choose to do? <br />
<br />
For one, they'll read our posts. If we post to social media anything that sets us above another for whatever reason, we have chosen not to welcome them. (and just because we can post it doesn't mean we should) That doesn't mean we aren't entitled to our opinions, we are, and I respect yours, but when we choose not to welcome instead of welcome we are setting ourselves as judge. <br />
<br />
So today, I write as Paul wrote. Not commanding that we welcome...but urging, in the name of the risen Christ. If you use scripture in your posts, do your homework. Check the context. Read the whole chapter. Understand that there may be other interpretations but your own. Realize that we weren't even intended to read much of what we know as the New Testament. <br />
<br />
Do...not...use...Holy Scripture...as...a...weapon...<br />
<br />
The words contained in those pages are words of welcome, grace, second chances, and forgiveness.<br />
<br />
So to my friends who are black, gay, or in any other way marginalized by those in the church, I apologize, from the depths of my soul. The God who created you has called me to love you just as I love myself, and though I may screw it up from time to time, may it never be said of me that it was done intentionally. <br />
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To my brothers and sisters in the church universal, is it better to be right...or to be gracious? <br />
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I wish desperately that we were given the rest of Philemon's story. But...by leaving it open ended, I choose to believe that Onesimus was welcomed back as a brother...not as a slave. <br />
<br />
Peace,<br />
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J Jamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13091376561692615720noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4917382355345507520.post-48146635421405656602016-04-27T17:56:00.000-07:002016-04-27T17:56:28.583-07:00OBSERVATIONS FROM THE ASHESWhat I'm about to write, I write in the hopes that it helps keep someone else from going through what I'm going through right now. I'm not complaining. I'm not whining. This is not some, "Poor me," kind of deal. This is real life stuff. These words come from the heart. I've written about this before, but I'm starting to think that, at least for my own sanity, this is something I need to do a couple times a year. <br />
<br />
I sent an email today. <br />
<br />
"Big deal," you say, "I send emails every day." As do I. This one was different. I wrote this email at least a dozen times in my head before I actually typed it out, set my target audience, and hit send. In my 45 years, I can remember one conversation that was tougher for me to construct than was this one. That being the night I called my dad from my dorm room at the University of Kentucky and told him I was coming home. <br />
<br />
This email was going to my leadership team at church. <br />
<br />
I'm finishing up my fifth year as lead pastor at Grace Church in Ballard County, KY. We're a rural bunch, in a rural setting, 20 minutes from the closest city. Still, we're a growing bunch, both in numbers and in spirit. We've seen our average attendance increase 150% in five years. We've added programming that covers almost the entire monthly calendar. We've gone from 2 small groups meeting during the week, to 24 meeting throughout the month. Finances...they're better than they've ever been. We're dreaming big dreams and making bold plans, plans that we know without a doubt we can't accomplish. Construction was just completed on a 4.25 acre lake on the property as Phase One of a camp where we will get to watch God reach the youth of the county before the drugs do. There are a lot of great things going on in this little section of the world, and most days, I can't believe that I even get to be a part of it. <br />
<br />
I love my job. Let me say that again. I love my job. Pastoring a church is not something you get into for the money, it's a passion...a God given passion. I love my people. I love to be with them during their times of celebration and their times of struggle. I had one call me just today and say, "I needed to talk to someone and I couldn't get hold of my momma." I was next on the list. That was after taking care of business in the office this morning, and pastoral calls in two different hospitals. It's a sacred work that we are called to...a holy work...a work that can make a real difference in someone's life. We get to be with our people when their lives can't possibly seem to get any better, and when they can't possibly seem to get any worse. <br />
<br />
They, whoever they are, say that if you love your job, you never work a day in your life. I believe that. But I still had to send the email today. <br />
<br />
See, Monday night I led a devotional for a group of folks who were gearing up for a youth retreat this summer, and my text was from Mark's gospel...you know, the no frills...just the facts, ma'am...gospel. Mark doesn't waste a lot of words on fluff. Mark tells it pretty much like it is. My text for that devotional was Mark 6. <br />
<br />
In Mark 6, just before Jesus takes a few fish and a few pieces of bread and feeds thousands with them, the disciples are all running up to him because he had sent them out on an errand in an earlier story, and they couldn't wait to tell him about all of the great stuff they had done. Mark doesn't say, (because no frills, remember) but I can imagine they had been out healing folks, and talking about all of the great things that were going to happen when the Kingdom broke out and God got God's way. I figure they probably wanted to tell him about all of the folks they had talked to who had decided to follow "The Way." Great stuff. I mean, this is Kingdom kind of stuff. Sacred work. Holy work. <br />
<br />
Yet, Jesus, in his Christly wisdom, stops them mid conversation and says what...do you remember? "Come away with me, by yourselves, to a quiet place and get some rest." He completely cut them off. Mark doesn't even record one single story that Jesus let them tell. It was almost rude...at least from our viewpoint. <br />
<br />
That story has haunted me for two weeks. Here's why...<br />
<br />
I've noticed, of late, that my patience is much thinner than it used to be. I've noticed that I don't have a level of tolerance that I once had. I've noticed that I'm getting short with folks who just want to talk, or tell me about something that's going on. I'm forgetting stuff more than I used to, and it's not just because I'm getting older. I had a complete meltdown yesterday over a few things, that in the big picture, were nothing. <br />
<br />
Why? Because I've ignored what Jesus said to the disciples...for years. I have not taken the time I needed to go away to a quiet place and rest. So...I sent my leadership team an email today, told them what was going on, and asked for their blessings for a week off next week. It was one of the hardest things I've ever done. <br />
<br />
Pastors...listen to this, and I mean listen good... Lay servants...listen to this. Church volunteers...hear what I'm about to say. <br />
<br />
Your God, the one who spoke the world into creation, the one who breathed life into you, the one who ordered everything we see, is the very same God who commanded us to take time away. It's that important. <br />
<br />
I don't care how fast your church is growing. I don't care what cool programming you have. I don't care what your numbers look like. If you (we) are not taking care of yourself (ourselves), you (we) are going to crash and burn. Who's going to suffer for it? Your church for one. The kingdom. Your family and friends. And finally, yourself. <br />
<br />
I'm writing this because, right now I'm sitting in the ashes of my own damned arrogance. And do you know what? It's nobody's fault but mine. My leadership tried to tell me a few years ago. They saw the signs way back then, but we had so much to do, and things were going so well, and the schedule was so tight, and my God, look at how the numbers are coming up. One of them even called me into MY office and said, "You need to take some time away." <br />
<br />
Believe it or not, and I didn't until today, the church you serve will not implode if you take time for Sabbath, and if it does, you haven't done your job. Our job is to equip leaders in the church who can do the work of ministry, share the load, and generate other leaders. It is not, and I'm learning this the hard way, to do it all ourselves. <br />
<br />
"But I want to make sure it's done right." I get that, honestly. I'm a perfectionist and a control freak. I have 4 years' worth of blue chips, and 30 day chips, and so on from Celebrate Recovery for those very things. <br />
<br />
"But my last church always said I never did enough, and always wanted to know how I spent my time." I get that. Trust me. I served four years in the pits of hell, dealing with the exact same thing...which, I believe, led me to becoming a workaholic out of pure guilt. <br />
<br />
"But I've been called by God to do the work of the church, and I'm going to give it everything I have." Kudos. Let me know how that's going in five years. You'll be right where I'm at. <br />
<br />
Hey, I've said all of those things, too. But the fact remains that I ignored the command from God to take Sabbath, AND the call from Christ to come away to a quiet place and rest, and because I did...because I felt like I had to be everything and do everything...I'm empty. <br />
<br />
Let me tell you, empty sucks. <br />
<br />
So, if you want to play the hero, knock yourself out. Folks will let you. They'll even pat you on the back for it. You may get promoted, may get a bigger church, may get a nicer desk...you may even get called to lead conferences and tell folks about all of the great things that you're doing. You may get bragged on because you're always at the office. (That happened to me yesterday.) Your folks may tell other folks about how they can call you at any time, day or night, and you'll drop whatever you're doing and go. <br />
<br />
In our world, those things are what success looks like. But do you know what? We don't only live and/or work in our world. We operate in and for another plane, another dimension, another level...and when we forget that our success is measured in a different way...and when we keep pushing when we should rest...and when we think that we're the only one who can do something right...this is where we wind up...sitting in the ashes of our own arrogance. <br />
<br />
So...my email...it was hard to write, and I hesitated before I hit send. But my people know that if I'm going to be of any good to them, I have to take care of myself. They were ordained at their baptisms to do the work of the church, and by dang, they do it well. They've been given the gifts that are needed to keep Grace Church going while I do exactly what I should have been doing all along. <br />
<br />
I don't have any plans. I may work in my garden. I may read. I might go hiking, or trim some trees, but here's what I'm not going to do...I'm not going to worry about that church coming apart at the seams because I'm not there for a few days. <br />
<br />
Brothers and sisters, it doesn't matter if you are clergy or laity, our work is too important to ignore the call to rest. Our people depend on us. They need us to be at our best. On Sunday morning, they expect us to bring our A game, and rightly so. If we're strung out because our ego tells us that we don't need to rest, we can't do those things. <br />
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Now, I'm going to ask you the question my leadership team asked me, "When is your day off?" Please understand that I'm not trying to make anyone feel bad, or feel guilty. Please know that I understand that things just happen sometimes and setting a regular day every week is next to impossible. There are emergencies, meetings, special events that happen all of the time. But...I think I may have finally learned just how important it is to take some time, maybe a different day each week, but take a day to just rest. Hopefully, this will help decrease the number of folks who feel like I've felt the last few days. <br />
<br />
If you work with the Church in any way, you are in prayers, and so is your Sabbath time. Jamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13091376561692615720noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4917382355345507520.post-4160145885589952002016-01-17T15:20:00.001-08:002016-01-17T15:20:05.008-08:00Art and Icy Wind<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--6-KOiGY7GU/VpwhgPFHuFI/AAAAAAAAAbE/F-tlGv4cYas/s1600/homeless-cold1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--6-KOiGY7GU/VpwhgPFHuFI/AAAAAAAAAbE/F-tlGv4cYas/s1600/homeless-cold1.jpg" /></a>The temperature outside has dropped from 32 degrees to 24 degrees since lunch today. I'm standing in this room, elbow to elbow with people in nice wool coats, scarves, hats, and gloves in their pockets. When I say elbow to elbow, it is literally just that. This place is packed. There is hardly room to breathe, much less, move around. It's an art show for the area high schools at the local, downtown art gallery. <br />
<br />
The longer I stand there, the closer the crowd gets, and being one who has a propensity to flip completely out in a crowded room, my panic gauge begins to peg, and I have to find some air...soon. <br />
<br />
I begin working my way toward the door, waiting for this person to move a couple inches, and that person to turn just a little, so that I can squeeze through the gap between them. Over and over, I repeat this stopping and waiting, inching across the room, until I'm finally through the doors and outside on the sidewalk.<br />
<br />
Immediately, the wind blowing off of the river and down Broadway hits me in the face, and for just a second, I wonder if it wasn't better inside the crowded room, but...people...and too many of them. I stand on the sidewalk outside the gallery and watch him across the street, on the opposite corner. <br />
<br />
Inside that building, on that corner, were more nice wool coats, hats, gloves, and scarves; only they weren't crowded into a gallery, "oohing" and "aahing" over high school art students' latest works. They were seated around small tables with steaks or glasses of wine.<br />
<br />
I watch him from across the street. Obviously, he didn't have a nice wool coat, or he would have had it on. The wind was picking up speed as it made its way down the river and across the parking lot. I turned for just a second, looked back, and he was gone. I don't know where he went, but he wasn't standing on the corner, opposite me anymore. No doubt, if he wasn't completely homeless, he at least did without the extras in life. All it took was a peek at what he was wearing to be able to tell that.<br />
<br />
I don't know why, but something inside me said, "Hey, let's try a little experiment. Just looking at what's around you, and without being able to get inside a building, see if you can find a warm spot out of the wind." <br />
<br />
I guess I probably looked crazy, and actually I'm a little surprised that no one called the police. While everyone else was still inside the gallery looking at art, and the others were sitting around little tables, sipping wine, I was creeping around corners...in and out of doorways...and going into alleys. The funny thing, and not so funny at the same time, was that no matter where I went or which corner I turned, I could not get out of the wind. <br />
<br />
One would think that, eventually, some part of some building would block the wind, but I never found that spot. Realistically, I was only out there for about 15 minutes before I'd had enough, and slipped back inside...but...<br />
<br />
...but, I wondered where he went...and others like him...<br />
<br />
It was just supposed to be an afternoon trip to the art gallery to see a piece that my youngest had in the show. It turned into a reminder of just how good I really have it, and how so many aren't so lucky. <br />
<br />
This past week I saw a couple of guys sitting beside a stop sign. It happens so often that, to some, it's almost cliche'. I stopped, saw a break in the traffic, and made my turn. It was getting late in the afternoon. I had to start supper, and honestly, I just wasn't in the mood. As I sat there in traffic, waiting for the light, my first thought was, "Damn. I have to go back. But I don't want to." <br />
<br />
I pulled out of the turning lane, hit the fast food drive in for a few burgers and some hot coffee (Which cost way more than I had planned on spending), circled back around and stopped this time. I rolled down the window, handed them the sack and cups of coffee, and asked where they were headed. <br />
<br />
Austin, Texas. <br />
<br />
Austin, Texas is roughly 700 miles from Paducah, Ky...and it's January. In Paducah, in January, it gets cold. Bone chilling cold. If you're on foot, hitching a ride, looking for a meal, or sleeping outside, Paducah, in January is probably not the ideal spot. <br />
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Now, why have I written about this? Not so that I'll get patted on the back, and I don't want anyone to comment with, "Bless you for doing that for those guys." Honestly, if my conscience had let me, I might have made my turn and gone on home. I'm writing about these two experiences, within the span of just a few days, to raise awareness of the fact that it is winter and not everyone has a place to get in out of the cold. <br />
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Try it some time. Go downtown on a cold, windy day, and try to find a corner that the wind is not whipping around. <br />
<br />
Then, imagine if you can, that the sidewalk by that particular corner is where you're sleeping tonight. <br />
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Then, after you've don't that...all I ask is this...don't drive by the next guys sitting at a stop sign. Who knows the difference a hot meal, a cup of coffee, and a little conversation might make. Will it fix their problem or end homelessness? Good Lord, no...<br />
but anything is better than nothing.<br />
<br />
"Whatever you did for the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me."<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Jamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13091376561692615720noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4917382355345507520.post-85523746884234439272015-12-23T08:18:00.000-08:002015-12-23T08:19:37.130-08:00A Different Kind of Christmas Story<br />
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> (This is my Christmas letter to Grace Church)</span></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-H234nYmBPTw/VnrING731uI/AAAAAAAAAaw/pSXELnaf7MQ/s1600/perry1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-H234nYmBPTw/VnrING731uI/AAAAAAAAAaw/pSXELnaf7MQ/s1600/perry1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-H234nYmBPTw/VnrING731uI/AAAAAAAAAaw/pSXELnaf7MQ/s320/perry1.jpg" width="240" /></a><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">
It was a hot day in June of my 12th year. I had been away at summer camp
all week. On Friday afternoon mom and dad met the bus to pick me up and
take me home. As we got ready to pull into the driveway, I saw my border
collie, Tippy, lying in the road ditch. I hoped against hope that he was
just taking a nap while he waited for me to get home. Unfortunately,
Highway 94 in south Graves County had claimed another family pet. As my
dad made ready to lay Tippy to rest, I walked the field behind the house...a
complete and total mess. That day I swore to myself that I would never,
ever, never love another dog. What was the point? I'd just get
attached and something would happen to it. So at 12 years old, I gave up
on having a dog. Forever. </span><br />
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">
Over 30 years later, something began to change. Every now and then I'd
find myself thinking about Tippy and thinking that it might be nice to have
another one. But I didn't want to go through that again, and since I was
allergic to short haired dogs, that was a good enough excuse. I'd see one
and say, "Stupid dog." I'd hear someone talking about their dog
chewing up the couch I'd say, "That's why I have cats. Dogs are
stupid. Cats don't care if you're there or not." I tried hard
to hate dogs. The truth was, though, I was just scared of losing another
one. </span></div>
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Then the desire got strong enough that I actually started looking for one, but
it was going to have to be the right one...the perfect dog. It couldn't
make me sneeze. It couldn't bark. It couldn't chew up my house
shoes. It couldn't go ripping around the house, and it couldn't dig up my
yard. I figured that if I set the requirements high enough, I'd never
find the perfect dog, and I could say, "Well, hey, I tried."</span></div>
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Well...I found one. But he wasn't perfect. He didn't make me
sneeze, but he barks some. When I went to meet him, he was a nervous
wreck. He couldn't control his bladder. He cowered. He
wouldn't come to me. As the shelter director told me his story, my walls
started coming down. He had been mistreated all of his life. He
didn't trust men. He was malnourished. He was dirty. He
needed to be loved. After 30 minutes or so, I thanked them for letting me
meet him and left. All week long I kept thinking about that stupid
dog. I spent the next several days going back and forth between wanting
to rescue him and give him a shot at a decent life, and thinking that the last
thing I needed was a dog to take care of. Then late this week I said to
myself, "What are you so afraid of? Just do it. He needs
you."</span></div>
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Now, why have I written about that in a Christmas letter to the church I
serve? There are a couple reasons. One, this time of year brings to
mind a great many hurts in our own lives. Many of us are dealing with
grief that will never go away, and the best we can hope is that time will
somehow ease our pain. Nothing that anyone can say or do will make that
just go away, and I want to honor that place in your lives. Well-meaning
people will, to their error, try to convince us that it's time to just move
on. However, some of the things we are grieving can never be replaced or
forgotten, nor should they be. </span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">
Still, this is also a time to remember that there are, walking among us, an
immeasurable number of people who want one thing...to be loved. They're
not perfect. Many have things in their past that have separated them from
family and friends. Some are struggling financially. Many have experienced
some great loss in their lives this year. For people who find themselves
in any of those situations, this season only amplifies the effects of
depression and anxiety.</span></div>
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The baby that we gather this week to celebrate grew up to tell us that those
were the ones he came for. We may have never thought about it quite that
way, but the very reason there is a Christmas season is because there was, and
will always be, someone who needs to be loved. Since Christ's presence on
earth now is no longer a physical one, the work of bringing love, joy, peace,
and hope to a hurting world falls squarely on our shoulders as his
followers. This season calls us to be even more intentional about doing
just that.</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">
At Grace, our mission statement is to "Connect people to Christ and to
each other." It's not just a catchy slogan that looks good on the
sign out front. It's at the center of who we are...the work we've been
called to...our very reason for existing. We are here for the ones who
feel that, for whatever reason, they aren't loved. If you would like to partner with us on this awesome task, we can help change the world one relationship at a time. It's not an
easy work that we're called to...but it can be life changing. By helping support the ministries of the church we can bring hope, joy, peace, and love to a hurting world. </span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">
His name is now Perry, and he's so ugly that he's cute. This week he
found a new home. The first four years of his life have been filled with
fear and suffering. This Christmas, he has shown me that love really does
conquer fear and I'm going to do all I can to make sure that for the rest of
his life...he knows that he's loved. We, as a church, can do the same for
any who cross our paths. </span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Peace, </span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">J</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Grace Church LaCenter</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">PO Box 330</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">LaCenter, KY 42056</span></div>
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Jamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13091376561692615720noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4917382355345507520.post-82092645217062688952015-12-08T12:53:00.000-08:002015-12-08T12:56:41.798-08:00Sitting on the Fence...<div style="border-image: none;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lrLBVSglt5k/VmdCwq6rdLI/AAAAAAAAAaY/S3D9aTYk2Kc/s1600/fence.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lrLBVSglt5k/VmdCwq6rdLI/AAAAAAAAAaY/S3D9aTYk2Kc/s1600/fence.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lrLBVSglt5k/VmdCwq6rdLI/AAAAAAAAAaY/S3D9aTYk2Kc/s1600/fence.jpg" /></a><br />
<br />I'm torn. <br /><br />I've kind of shied away from doing anything like this lately, but it's starting to bother me, so I'm just going to throw it out there...the world is going to hell in a handbasket. That's nothing new. It's been happening for hundreds of years, maybe longer. <br /><br />People are scared...and rightly so.<br /><br />We have become ill at ease while engaging in the most basic things of life...meetings, shopping, going to the movies. <br /><br />The level of trust for any who are different has nose dived...and again...maybe rightly so. <br /><br />We've circled the wagons, and the rhetoric coming from our newsfeeds has tighened that circle. <br /><br />Over 16 years ago, I answered a call that has forever changed me. I'm not the same person I was then. Oh, I'm no saint, don't get me wrong. In fact, sometimes I can be an absolute ass...but I think differently about things now than I did while I was still driving nails every day. <br /><br />Things that I would have never given a second thought to saying out loud then, give me pause now. I was a hard man then. I had very little tolerance for any who didn't share my views, and if you worked for me, you had better tow the line. I've fired guys for things that seem so trivial now. <br /><br />I have two daughters now, who are almost grown, and that has changed me as well. I think about how to keep them safe, who they're talking to, what they're doing, but especially about how to keep them safe. <br /><br />I watch the news just like everybody else. I see the images. I hear the stories. My heart breaks. <br /><br />I read the stories from our faith, study them, expound on them every week. And that's where I'm torn. So in the spirit of transparency, the reason I'm torn is that while I'm a pastor, I'm also a man. <br /><br />The pastor in me knows about the call of Christ to love our enemies and pray for those who persecute us. That's what I preach. It's what I try to live...try to. The man in me knows that to do that opens myself, and any around me, up to all of those things we fear. The struggle is indeed real. <br /><br />Then I remember part of the liturgy of the table in my denomination:<br /><br />"Merciful God, we confess that we have not loved you with our whole heart. We have failed to be an obedient church. We have not done your will, we have broken your law, we have rebelled against your love, we have not loved our neighbors, and we have not heard the cry of the needy. Forgive us, we pray. Free us for joyful obedience, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen."<br /><br />I'm torn. And I own that. I haven't always heard the cry of the needy, nor sometimes do I even want to. Yet, I'm not 100% sure that I'm free for joyful obedience all of the time. <br /><br />I realize the call to welcome. I understand that I'm supposed to love unconditionally as I have been unconditionally loved. I've heard over and over again that if I claim to be a follower, I'm also claiming to be a messenger of peace. Hell, I've even said that, over and over. But...<br /><br />...but I'm also a man, living in the reality that there is indeed evil afoot, struggling to find any sense of balance between who I'm called to be and my human nature...and I'm not alone. This is a very real struggle among those of us who claim to follow the Prince of Peace. We want to honor our faith, but at the same time, we're scared. And I get that. <br /><br />So what do we do?<br /><br />With the presidential campaigns in full swing, I'm seeing a mix of fear mongering and denial. It makes me wonder if we're seeing some of the same kinds of things in the church, and in those who make up the church. <br /><br />What does the Church do in the face of terror attacks? <br />What does the Church, the followers of Christ, do with mass shootings? <br />What does the Church do with gun control? <br />What does the Church do with the Prince of Peace? <br />How does the church balance our instinct for safety and survival with the call from the itinerant rabbi we claim to follow?<br /><br />These are very real questions, and we can either openly and honestly struggle with them or we can stick our heads in the sand and pretend that our people are not genuinely afraid of the times. <br /><br />There have been calls to arms...part of me gets that. There have also been calls to peace...and part of me gets that. But what about those of us who are finding ourselves stuck in the middle...on the proverbial fence, if you will?<br /><br />Do I own firearms? Yes. Would I use them to protect my family? Without batting an eye. Am I willing to take the risk of welcoming someone who may wind up doing me harm? I think so, but wouldn't do so knowing that was their intention. I don't think many of us would. <br /><br />Do I want to welcome the stranger, feed the hungry, clothe the naked? Yes. Is it because I really want to, or because Jesus tells me to? Honestly, it depends on the situation. Am I afraid to do that? <br /><br />Sometimes. Yes. <br /><br />But that doesn't negate my call to do those things. Fear does not undo the reality that, as a pastor...whether the man within me wants to, or not...I am called to seek peace. Why? Because that was the example Christ left us. It wasn't just some catch phrase...it was the way he lived...and died. <br /><br />So for now, I continue to struggle. I guess I'm still sitting on the fence, and some may say that's a coward's way out...but I'm just being honest. I know who I've been called to be, what I've been called to do, but I also know how unbelievably dangerous it can be. I know that my fears and struggles are real, and many of yours may be as well. <br /><br />This could absolutely blow up in my face, or...there could be someone who reads this and says, "Thank God I'm not alone."<br />I welcome conversation, as long as we can keep it focused and civil. <img src="goog_1948797601" /><br />
<img src="goog_1948797601" /><div style="border-image: none;">
<img src="goog_1948797601" /></div>
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Jamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13091376561692615720noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4917382355345507520.post-15806111009849402442015-10-15T08:05:00.000-07:002015-10-15T08:07:20.853-07:00She's Not Okay...<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Bg39wgOGONk/Vh_AfQtS6DI/AAAAAAAAAaI/SarEBKbsFp0/s1600/abuse.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Bg39wgOGONk/Vh_AfQtS6DI/AAAAAAAAAaI/SarEBKbsFp0/s320/abuse.jpg" width="320" /></a>I have a love-hate relationship with social media. I don't tweet much, but I do have a social media account that I use with a fair amount of regularity. Sometimes I hate that I love it. Sometimes I love to hate it. It can be a great ministry tool...but it can also be the devil on the small screen. <br />
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I'm always curious to see if anything I post hits anyone in a positive way. This week, it did. It was just a picture of a quote, and it wasn't even my quote. I saw it and thought, "Yes, that." I have no clue who the original author is, but it's not me, so I own that. But...it was shared more than anything else I have posted on social media in nearly 10 years, which led me to believe...this is a problem. Here's what it said:<br />
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"Just because a person doesn't put hands on you, that doesn't mean they aren't abusive. Abuse is control, blatant disrespect, and also hurtful words. Don't settle for emotional abuse thinking it's okay because it's not physical." <br />
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This Saturday will be my 16th anniversary in pastoral ministry. Over those 16 years I have seen this played out over and over. Folks will come into my office, shoot me a text, send me an email, or actually pick up the phone and call...and this is what it's about. <br />
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They have realized that something isn't right in the relationship, but since there are no bruises, the idea that they are being abused isn't on their radar. There may be this feeling in the pit of their gut that it's not a healthy relationship, but he hasn't thrown them against the wall, so it can't be all that bad, right? Not exactly. <br />
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This is a dangerous topic to write about, but maybe it's one we should be writing more about. Being controlled is abuse. Being separated from friends and family is abuse. Being told who you can talk to and who you can't is abuse. Having to walk on eggshells is abuse. Being afraid to talk because it might cause a rage is abuse. Being called names, talked down to, told you're not worth anything, or that you should just be thankful to be with him because no one else would want you...is abuse. There are so many ways one person can abuse another without leaving bruises, and none of them are healthy. <br />
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Ladies, a black eye is a definite sign of abuse...but you don't have to have bruises on your body to be a victim of abuse. If you've read this and thought, "Holy hell...that sounds familiar," talk to someone. I promise you this, the people in your life who love you have already noticed, and are probably afraid to say anything to you about it. They might not know what to say. They probably don't want to upset you anymore than you are already. But, I promise you...if they don't know for sure, they're at least suspicious, and their heart is breaking for you. They're just waiting for you to say something so they can help you find your way to healing, happiness, and peace. <br />
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If you're in an abusive relationship, and you want out, you will need their support. It doesn't mean that you have to spill your guts and tell them everything, but when someone, who you know loves you, asks, "Are you ok?" be straight with them. You may not be ready to right now, but pray over it, and in time you will have the strength and the courage to say, "No, I'm really not ok. I need some help." <br />
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One more thing...it's not your fault. You may have been told that it is, and that the only problems in your relationship are ones you've caused, but it's not your fault. You may have been told that if you wouldn't make him mad, there wouldn't be any problems at all...but it's not your fault. You wanted to be loved, and he said all of the right things. There was no way of knowing the monster that was lurking just below the surface. <br />
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Call a friend, your pastor, or a domestic abuse hotline. Be shrewd, but be courageous. If you are able, put together an escape plan. Find a trained counselor who can walk with you as you make your plans to get out. There are multiple resources that you can use to get away from an abusive relationship, and do it safely. Find a good therapist who can help rebuild the person you were before you were beaten down emotionally, mentally, and spiritually. Know you're not alone and that healing is waiting. My prayers are with you.<br />
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To those who may know someone in this situation, be patient with her. Now is not the time to raise your voice to her, or to tell her how stupid it is to stay in the relationship, or to try to force her to get out. She's not okay right now. She probably knows that it's not a healthy relationship, but is afraid to make a move. Be gentle, but don't give up on her. Remind her, as often as you can, of her sacred worth. When she's ready, and when the time is right, she'll make her escape. If you've handled your end right, you may be one of the ones who can help her do it. <br />
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Here is a number you can call to begin finding your way back to healing. 1-800-799-SAFE<br />
If you are in immediate danger, you can also call 911.Jamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13091376561692615720noreply@blogger.com0