All I Went For Was a Salad...

One night in May of 1999, I stood in the vestibule of the little country church that I had called home for all of my young adult life, and with knees knocking, told my pastor that I felt I was being called into the ministry.  At 28 years old, I was about to make a life change.  Ed, my pastor, told me that if I said "yes" to the call I was feeling, doors would be opened and others would be closed.  He told me, "Jamie, if a door opens up, walk through it.  If it's closed, leave it alone."  Thirteen years later, I'm finally beginning to see the wisdom in that...and...I'm finally beginning to notice when those doors are opened...and when they're not.

Today, I had been working in the office all morning.  I'm taking my leadership team on a retreat this weekend to focus on visioning for the next 5 to 10 years, attempting to discern the Spirit's leading for Grace Church, so I had spent all morning putting together the pre-retreat packet for the team.  Lunch time rolled around and I kept working.  After 30 minutes or so I decided that a salad would be awful nice (Doc told me to drop a few pounds) so I jumped in the truck and headed to one of the restaurants here in town.  I took my paperwork with me, sat down with my soup and salad, and went to work (on all three).  After I finished eating, I saw one of my preacher buddies from across town and we started talking about how things were going in our respective churches.  Conversation moved to the Celebrate Recovery group that meets at the church I'm serving (with a lot of help from our friends in other churches.  It would not be possible without them, honestly) and when the man sitting with my buddy heard "Celebrate Recovery" his whole face changed. 

He looked so familiar but I just couldn't make the connection, so I introduced myself to him.  He told me that his name was Mike...that he lived down the road, and...oh...he was the county jailer.  (Now I know where I have seen him before).  He went on to tell me that he had been wanting to get a Celebrate Recovery program going in the jail for months, and you could see the excitement building within him.

What happened next is a blur.  Mike scooted over, told me to sit down with them, and we began to talk.  Two hours later, after a trip back to my office to tie up some loose ends, I'm sitting in his office at the county jail and we're planning the launch of a Celebrate Recovery program in house. 

I just went for a salad.

"Jamie, if a door opens up, walk through it."

Confession time: When I woke up this morning, if I had been made to list 1000 things that I thought I might possibly be involved in before I went to bed tonight, starting a Celebrate Recovery program at the county jail would not have even made the top 1000.  Honestly, I'm scared to death.  Oh, I'm not scared of being involved in jail ministry.  I think that is a wonderful mission field.  Maybe scared isn't even the right word...awed, would be better.  I am awed at how God opens doors when there is kingdom work to be done, and I am awed at how things begin to fall into place when we step through those doors...into God's will...and surrender ourselves, literally, to only God knows what.

I don't even know why I blogged about this, other than to encourage someone else, anybody, to step through whatever door God may open before them.  It never ceases to amaze me to see what God can do when I get out of the way. 

"Here am I, Lord.  Send me."

Peace,
Jamie

Torn...

I'm torn...and by simply putting voice to that which causes turmoil within my soul, I know I am pasting a target on my back...but I can't remember that ever stopping me before.  You don't have to agree with me, and in fact, most might not, but since this is my blog, and I feel led to write, I'm going to.  You may stop reading at any time and I promise to hold you up in Christian love. 

I've said here before that I am a pastor...a United Methodist pastor...an Elder in full connection in the United Methodist Church.  I was born a United Methodist, but after sampling the "not so" greener grass for a season in my late teens, I remain a United Methodist by choice.  As an Elder in the UMC, I am ordained to the ministry of Word, Sacrament, Order, and Service.  Part of that...being ordained to Order...simply means that I have vowed before my bishop to uphold the Discipline of the United Methodist Church...the Church that I love.

This week, in Tampa, the General Conference of the United Methodist Church is in session.  This is the only body that can legally speak for the denomination.  Today, the delegates voted to maintain language within our Book of Discipline stating that homosexuality is incompatible with Christian teaching.  Er go...I'm torn.  On one hand, I have vowed to uphold the Discipline of the United Methodist Church...which I intend to do.  On the other hand, I see the pain that language causes many in our denomination...or those who have been mistreated in other denominations and have come to us looking for "open hearts, open minds, and open doors."

What bothers me even more than that, I believe, is the way we have treated each other over this topic.  It is most definitely a hot button issue, and I can absolutely appreciate the passion coming from both sides, however, there has to be a better way.   

There have been very heated discussions running through Twitter and Facebook all day, and as I have followed the live stream from Tampa today, and followed some of the discussions, I'm brought back to a question that I have been wrestling with for years.  It may not be a huge theological question, such as "Is homosexuality a sin?" or "Is there more to human sexuality from a biological/genetic standpoint?"  I'm struggling with those, for sure, but the one that I keep coming back to is this: "Why would anyone consciously choose to engage in a lifestyle knowing they will be alienated from family, friends, and the church?"  I've yet to be able to answer that question in a manner that supports a conscious decision to do so, which leads me to believe that there is so much more to this issue.    

Now, you may say, "Why be worried about being alienated from family and friends when we all know that sin alienates us from God?"  Ok, I'll give you that one...but...why are we so focused on this one?

My prayer for the church that I love is that at some point we get to the place where we can discuss issues like this and actually do so in Christian love...which many did not do today...on both sides of the disagreement.  My prayer for the church that I love is that we can either live into the slogan that we developed in the last few years, or find a way to determine who among us will actually find our hearts, our minds, and our doors open...and at least have the fortitude to own the fact that some won't.  Hell, maybe I need to own the fact that I'm being just as bull headed as others, I don't know, but what I do know is that the way some within our church were treated is wrong. 

If homosexuality is a sin, which the delegation voted today to call it that for at least another four years (and I'm not sure I agree), then my prayer for the church that I love and serve, is that all sinners are welcomed...and loved.  If it is ever determined within the voting body that it is indeed not a sin, then may God forgive us for the pain we have continued to cause. 

I'm torn...
I'm a United Methodist...
I have friends and family who are LGBT, whom I love dearly...
I have a God who loves unconditionally....
Lord, help me do the same.

Here is a prayer my DS included in his blog this morning with a link if you'd like to read more.  Thanks, Sky.

We talk a lot, O Lord.

We talk and twitter and blog about others,

we talk in derision of those we don't like,
we talk in fear about those we don't know.
Remind us that we can be faithful and true to you,
our beliefs, our doctrine, and our theology
without pointing out the speck in another's eye.
Remind us how the logs in our own eyes
blind us to seeing you, your truth, and your people
as the children of God that they are.
We disagree O God. Help us to disagree agreeably.
Forgive us, O Lord.
In Jesus' name. Amen.

http://revdsky.blogspot.com/2012/05/starting-conversation.html

Peace,
Jamie

No Whining...

I can hear it already.  The guaranteed appointment for clergy in the United Methodist Church has been gone less than 24 hours and I can already hear the whining... and with a few exceptions (folks who are extremely well qualified but due to stigmas over race and gender may still find acceptance in certain local churches difficult) it boils down to this..."What about me?"

Well, what about you?  Or me, for that matter?

Guess what, we ain't all that...and I'm afraid that the sense of entitlement we gripe and complain about in every other aspect of social life has sadly found its way into some areas of church life.  My brothers/sisters, this should not be.

I admit, and do so quickly and freely, that I am not the sharpest crayon in the box.  There are many things about our polity and structure that, try as I may, I just don't understand.  Part of the problem is more than likely the adult ADD that my bride keeps telling me I have.  I really do have the attention span of a gnat.  Part of it is the fact that I just get tired of the arguments, so I tune some of it out.  Honestly, I'm not even sure exactly what was presented to General Conference, or what language was included in the petition...I'm not watching the live streaming feeds...I just know that my boss posted on his facebook page that the guaranteed appointment system was gone...

In fact, I'd have to look to see how long I even had a guaranteed appointment before I don't have one now...either one year or three, and I'm not sure.  But ask me if I'm worried. 

Not really. 

Sure, we all want, nay, need some level of security in our lives.  I will be the first to say that.  Security can help keep the stress level down, it can allow us to focus on the work that we are called to do, but it can also make us lazy...and by "us" I mean "us" clergy.  When we get lazy, we become ineffective.  When we become ineffective, the Bride of Christ suffers. 

I will also be the first to say that I'm not a perfect pastor.  I screw up...a lot.  But I will also say that God didn't call me to be successful, only faithful, (nor did God call me to be a slacker, by the way...and ok, God did call me to be successful...that whole "Go and make disciples thing..." wasn't "Go and try to make disciples...") and by dang, faithful is what I intend to be...faithful to the Bride of Christ...and to the denomination that I love.

Hopefully, and again I refer to the fact that I don't know all of the language that was included in this petition, not only will the removal of the guaranteed appointment for clergy create more effective clergy...but will also create more effective local churches.  Perhaps, if some of our ineffective churches realized they may or may not receive a pastor, they'd step up their efforts a little more. 

Actually, that's probably the only concern I have about the whole deal...that clergy will be held more accountable while those ineffective local churches are not, but I digress.

So, my fellow warriors for the faith, fight the good fight...run the good race...and don't worry about the rest.  If we're doing those things, and doing them well, guaranteed appointments vs. no guarantee of an appointment really is a non-issue. 

-J 

Home Is Where...

"Home is where the heart is..."  Haven't we all heard that one?  I'd say that's probably true, in a cliche'd sort of way.  I do know that when I'm away from my girls, I miss them terrible, no matter where they are at the time.  So yeah, home is where the heart is...

Now, having said that, here's what's really on my mind this morning.  I'm a United Methodist pastor.  Have been for nearly 13 years now.  I'm also an Elder in full connection...which means I'm a pastor who has vowed to itinerate...which also means that I'm appointed to a community one year at a time.  We never know from June to June where we'll be, and honestly, I don't mind.

It does, however, make finding a sense of "home" difficult at times.  As long as I'm with my girls, we can be at home in a tent, but there's something about getting ready to leave some place and being able to say to my family, "Let's go home."  It's a constant search, but this week, I think I found it.

We own a home of our own, but also have a parsonage in the community I serve.  Summer before last, I put out a garden at our house and loved it.  We would sneak away for a couple days at a time so I could work the garden, but the reality is, the food I raised there cost me probably three times what it would have to buy in a grocery.  It didn't make economical sense, so I didn't plant a garden last year...and I missed it something fierce.

This year, after having moved to a new community and church, I talked to my committee about putting a garden at the parsonage.  They told me to go ahead, and that it was no problem at all, so I began to plan.  Where was I going to put it?  What would I plant?  Would I even have time?  Then this Monday, I was under orders from my wife to do something I wanted to do...just for me.  The time for planning was over, so I got my garden tiller out, pulled a couple strings, and started breaking ground. 

The smell was unbelievable.  That fresh, earthy scent took me right back to when I was a 6 year old kid, riding the tractor with my Granddaddy while he disked his fields.  After a few hours on the tiller (and 600 mg of ibuprofen), I was ready to start sowing seeds.   I stopped at the local farm store (trying to buy more local anyhow), bought my seed and a few plants, then went to work.  I brought compost over from our house and worked it into the soil, pulled more strings (I'm OCD, so the rows had to be perfectly spaced and perfectly straight) and started planting...first garlic, cabbage, lettuce, and onions.  Then an herb garden, peppers, tomatoes, squash, and peas. 

As I planted our garden, I realized that I was at home.  We may not own the house that we sleep in most nights, but now it is our home.  I can look through the dining room windows and see our garden, and it might not make sense to anybody else, but to me that was the last piece of the puzzle.  Our furniture has been here for almost a year.  The church has bent over backwards to do all they can to make us feel at home, but something was missing. 

I don't know, maybe I just need a to see a counselor or something...maybe it's gardening and not  fishing or golf that relaxes me...but as I sat on the patio this morning, with a cup of coffee, looking at our garden, and watching the birds come to the feeder, I felt at home...finally.  So, home is where the heart is...but for me, home is also where the garden is...

Whether it's a spot cut up in the back yard, or plastic totes filled with potting soil, I think this country boy, from here on out, is going to have something growing no matter where we are.



      

Screen Door Slamming...

I'm sitting at a cabin at the Kenlake State Resort Park, during a break while at our annual meeting of the fellowship of the orders of elders, deacons, and local pastors. This is our spring Spiritual Life Retreat for 2012. There is a little breeze blowing through the trees, filtered sunlight in the sky, and a sound that I have been inadvertantly blocking out for about the last 20 minutes.

I didn't even realize I was doing it.

This afternoon has been great, really. I got to get in a little trail time with some colleagues, who are also great friends. We hiked probably 3 miles or so. This morning's session was a good one. Lunch provided some great conversation with old friends, and now it's break time.

As I sit here on the screened-in porch at my cabin, I'm watching the waves dance on the Ledbetter Creek Bay of Kentucky Lake...thinking. I do that sometimes. Every now and then, not often mind you, but every now and then I'm able to stop for a few minutes, clear my mind, and just let the thoughts flow. It's really a much under appreciated moment, and honestly, goes completely unnoticed much of the time...but today I caught it.

As I'm listening to the birds and the waves, there is another sound screaming for my attention...do I dare let it in? To do so would be to shatter the beauty of the natural sounds I have been soaking in for the last few minutes...but it won't go away.

At this point I have a choice...I can begin to really pay attention to it, or I can ignore it and continue listening to the sounds of the winds, birds, and waves. Should I choose to let it in, it will overtake all that is beautiful around me. Yet if I ignore it, will it every really go away?

I choose to ignore it. "What is the sound?" you may ask...it is the sound of the screen door slamming. It's one of those noises that absolutely annoys the hell out of me. A shot of WD-40 might fix it, or I could get up and latch the screen door...or I can take this as the teaching moment it has become...sometimes there are some noises, or voices, in life that just need to be ignored...for a season.

It doesn't mean that they go away, or that at some point something doesn't need to be done to remedy the situation, but for the moment, I'm just going to be....and that's something I don't do nearly enough of.

So, screen door, slam in the breeze if you want. Make all of the noise you want to make. I choose, for this moment, to embrace the beautiful...to gaze out over the waves of Ledbetter Creek and watch the branches swaying in the breeze. I'm going to pay more attention to the sound of the gulls flying overhead, and watch the leaves sprout, and then in a bit...after my spirit has rested...I will get up and take care of you.

Why? Because the God that loves me, and that I love, calls to me each day, and this day I choose to reply..."Take me into the beautiful."

Peace,
Jamie

Spring Clean...

Yesterday was a day I look forward to every year, March 1. Oh I know that winter isn't exactly over yet, but it's getting close. Now we're through the (supposed to be) bitter cold of December and January, the wet snow of February, and moving on into the last few days of winter/first few days of spring.

The chorus frogs and spring peepers have been chirping for a few weeks, the irises are coming back out, and Narcissus blooms are everywhere. My absolute favorite time of the year, and yesterday I got to do one of my absolute favorite outside activities...it may not be your favorite, but it's one of mine.

I got the lawnmower out yesterday. I know, I know. "It's too early for that...You're neighbors aren't going to like that..." Well I do. Not only did I get the lawnmower out, but the weedeater too. And surprise of surprises, they both started.

Some folks get into spring cleaning their house, I spring clean my yard...have ever since I've had my own place. For me it's almost a spiritual thing. I mean, sure, my yard looks awesome now...all of the sticks have been picked up and piled, just waiting for a quick chance for a hot dog roast...the leaves have all been raked and piled...the grass is cut...shrubbery has been trimmed. But more importantly, and for me the spiritual part...all of the old dead stuff is gone, clearing a path for new growth.

Call me crazy, but I can even see theology in yard work. I'm pretty sure that most of the new plants would have found a way through the tangle of limbs and leaves that scattered the yard had I not done anything. I also know that most of us will find new beginnings amidst that mass of tangles in our lives, but why go through all of the unnecessary struggle?

If a pile of dead leaves and rotting sticks is keeping your irises from poking through the ground, get out your rake and clean it up. If there is something in your life that is preventing the growth of the person you were created to be, get rid of it.

Yeah, my yard looks pretty good now, but my soul feels better to.

Happy cleaning.

Peace,
Jamie

Best of All...

You've seen them, I'm sure...lists of famous last words. Around here, the most common last words you may hear are, "Hey y'all! Watch this!" In the words of Jeff Foxworthy, if you hear someone say those words, especially in the South, pay attention. It may be the last thing you hear them say.

All joking aside, we pay attention to last words of those around us. When my grandfather passed away, the last conversation he and I had was about taking care of the farm. He took me around the farm and we spent the afternoon going over his final instructions for me. We both knew his time was getting close, but neither really knew how close. Then the last thing he told me was, "Son, you're going to have to take of this place for your grandma."

And then there are these: some "alleged" last words:

"Pardon me, sir. I did not do it on purpose." - Queen Marie Antoinette after she stepped on the toe of her executioner.

"I should have never switched from scotch to martinis." - Humphrey Bogart

"Dammit! Don't you dare ask God to help me." - Joan Crawford to her housekeeper

"Hey fellas! How about this for a headline for tomorrow's paper? 'French fries'!" - James French, convicted

murderer, to the members of the press there to witness his execution.

"Now, now, my good man. This is no time for making enemies." - Voltaire, when asked by a priest to renounce Satan.

Whether or not those are historical, or even remotely accurate, I have no clue, but they do make for good conversation.

There's another deathbed quote that I think we should be at least as familiar with as those above, but you won't see this one in many "Top 10 Greatest Last Words" lists..."And best of all, God is with us." - John Wesley, March 2, 1791.

I have talked to a lot of folks lately who just seem lonely. It's a bad cliche' but they are lonely even in a crowded room...friends of mine, colleagues, folks in the church, and especially now that we have begun Celebrate Recovery. What seems to be missing in so many lives, is genuine, compassionate, honest, and consistent companionship. A lot of folks feel like they are struggling against the current and no one is there with them to offer any type of support or help. In fact, it's almost epidemic.

Now, I know that with the economy like it is, job security being non-existent, and any number of other contributing factors, life is tough all around. Which makes these last words even more important.

I'd like to share a quick story, leaving out names intentionally. At a meeting I was at recently, a friend of mine was talking about a friend of his that had been coming to him for help. This guy had made a bunch of mistakes, and had made them repeatedly. Late one night my friend's phone rang and it was this friend of his, sobbing. He was trying to find healing from a circumstance in his life (I'm intentionally being vague) and said to my friend, "You can't leave! You're all I have!" When those words sunk in, my friend told him, "Then you don't have very much," and hung up the phone.

Now that sounds harsh, I know. Was it the best way to deal with this person? Maybe not, but the point my friend was trying to make was that if all his buddy had was their friendship, then he didn't have much. Why? Because he had forgotten, or had never heard, Wesley's last words..."Best of all, God is with us."

That's something I try to remember every day, letting them soak into my soul. Why? Because sometimes the path that I have chosen is a lonely one. Aside from family and a circle of friends, I have difficulty letting folks in. It's my own doing, I know. But as long as I can remember these words, and as long as I can hear them for the truth they are, I know that I am never alone. Today I was reminded of that through conversations with some of my friends.

Best of all, God is with us.

Peace,

Jamie