Wherever Two Or Three Are Gathered
The season of denominational assemblies and conventions is upon us, and hordes of the faithful will make their way to the host city, wherever that may be this time around. A friend told me his church was gathering in Flagstaff, Arizona. The Disciples will convene in Ft. Worth. Others will go elsewhere. It will be a time of worship, bible lectures, workshops, exhibits and business sessions. Some describe the gatherings as “family reunions.”

People will scavenge for magnets, pens, foamy objects to be squeezed for “stress relief,” and countless other items emblazoned with logos and web addresses. Books will be bought, some of which actually may be read, and name tags will be adorned with stick-on emblems of alma maters.

Innumerable chickens will give their lives, in the tradition of their ancestors, so that Christians from across the continent can overpay for mass-prepared mediocre banquet meals. Martin Marty once reported that a Southern Baptist Convention in Houston, I believe it was, featured deserted hotel bars, and bustling room service business.

My son Matt accompanied me to a Disciples General Assembly in Kansas City a few years back. Shuttle buses ferried us between our hotel and the convention center. One of the drivers in the rotation took advantage of his captive audience and performed a monologue over the intercom on the bus. The second time we were trapped listening to his act, the driver launched into his bit about how former president Harry Truman greeted the children when he came to town from his nearby home, patting them on the head. The punch line came around, as it had the last time, and when the driver asked, “…and do you know what became of those kids?” -- dramatic pause -- Matt blurted out the answer we heard before: “They became bus drivers!” “Uh…well…yes…that’s right…”

What will happen this year when people of faith gang up on an unsuspecting city? There are many opportunities in this time of war, this era of spiritual confusion, this new day of emerging alternate visions for what it means to be the church.

Time For A Gut Check
There was a note in today’s news that a prominent voice of protest against the Iraq war, Cindy Sheehan, was giving up her efforts. According to the online article I read, she wrote in her blog, "Good-bye America ... you are not the country that I love and I finally realized no matter how much I sacrifice, I can't make you be that country unless you want it. It's up to you now."

She stated further that her son, Casey, whose death in the war sparked her protest, “died for a country which cares more about who will be the next American Idol than how many people will be killed in the next few months while Democrats and Republicans play politics with human lives."

Her protest, originally focused on President Bush and the Republican Party, expanded to include the Democrats, as well. “I guess no one paid attention to me when I said that the issue of peace and people dying for no reason is not a matter of 'right or left', but 'right and wrong,” she wrote. It sounds to me like she became disillusioned.

The late William Sloane Coffin put it well: “How can you become disillusioned unless you had illusions to begin with?”

Placing one’s hope for lasting peace in a political leader, party, movement or system is to have an illusion. Ultimately, the illusion will prove false, because the “peace” promoted will emerge from self-serving motivation and self-enhancing approaches.

Don’t get me wrong. I want the violence to stop and I will vote for people who seem to have a way to make it happen. But don’t tell me that will be peace. As long as billions of people try to survive on $2 or less per day, we don’t have peace. As long as 20% of the world’s population consumes 80% of the world’s resources, peace is elusive.

To me, peace isn’t a political or military arrangement that somehow stops people from killing each other. Rather, I think it is a way of life that may be too demanding for most of us willingly to embrace.

A Face In The Crowd
Many memorable people have passed in and out of my life over the years, some in the church, others from different contexts. I have met a number of well-known figures from politics, professional sports, and entertainment. The people who impress me the most are those who display integrity, humility, and genuine caring for others.

There was a woman at the church in Washington who went unnoticed by many people. When I knew her, she was in the final years of her life and depended on a walker to get around. She lived in the Maryland suburbs of D.C., and even though she could not drive -- and her husband with the drinking problem couldn't be bothered to drive her -- she always made it to the downtown church.

Numerous times I found her waiting for the Metro Access vehicle, the public transportation program available to those with disabilities. A special van would transport the people throughout the metropolitan area, when they called to arrange a trip. Invariably, they were late, perhaps because of high demand.

This woman, Lois, went through the Metro Access routine, not only for Sunday worship, but also for the seniors' group, and women's fellowship that met during the week at the church. It wasn't easy for her to manage this, and the waiting was frustrating, not to mention time-consuming. Being a part of the church was not a convenient matter for Lois.

But she was determined to attend church and to participate in the life of the community, even though it was so difficult. She also supported the church financially, despite having only a limited income. When the time came, I was honored to officiate at her funeral.

Lois wasn't a person who aspired to leadership in the church. She wasn't an officer or board member. She didn't sing in the choir, or do anything else "up front." She asked for no special favors or attention. She just was committed to the faith, the church, and the people there.

Her example was instructive to me and to everyone else who has a casual attitude about the faith and about their commitment to the faith community. So many of us have a "take it or leave it" attitude. Convenience plays a large role in our faithfulness.

Lois now is among the "great cloud of witnesses" who have gone before the rest of us, a blessed example which we all can aspire to emulate.

Still More On Pentecost
Once I was talking with a colleague from another state and he mentioned how he spoke out against government policies on some issue or other. He felt he was being “prophetic.” Maybe he was. I didn’t hear the sermon. But often enough, I’m afraid, we don’t really know what being prophetic means. Is it being critical of the president or other leaders? Is it harping on our favorite hot-button issue?

I remember one time at seminary, we were assigned to write papers dealing with controversial questions. One student’s paper tried to make the case that Jesus wasn’t really totally without sin. Someone else wrote about “isms:” i.e., sexism and racism. As I recall, the professor wasn’t especially impressed with that paper. I think his comment was something like, “Everyone knows these are wrong. Where is the prophetic element in your argument?”

So, if pointing out the sins of the “isms” isn’t prophetic, what is? I’ve thought about this over the intervening years. My understanding of prophecy is that it somehow expresses the mind of God. A prophet is someone who is so well-tuned to God’s word and intentions, and so filled with God’s spirit, he or she is able to observe what is happening in the world and reflect on those events in light of his or her awareness of God. In other words, the prophet speaks as God would speak in that particular situation. The prophet lends his or her voice to God.

It may include predicting some future consequence or outcome. It may point to the fallacies or errors of conventional wisdom. It may “fill in the gaps” of a poorly understood reality.

Above all, I think prophecy draws people into a new way of thinking, a new understanding. It helps uncover truth that has been overlooked. I think it is a positive approach rather than a negative approach. In other words, I don’t think prophecy just says, “This is wrong.” I think it proclaims, “There is a deeper truth.”

This is difficult and rare. Knowing God and being receptive to the Spirit, however it manifests itself, are the basic requirements.

The church, as I understand its purpose, is to reflect prophetic elements in its life.

An Oasis
I recently watched the movie, The Pursuit of Happyness, starring Will Smith, based on the true story of a person named Chris Gardner. After his wife walks out, Gardner struggles to make a life for himself and his young son. At one point in the story, they seek refuge in a homeless shelter provided by Glide Memorial United Methodist Church in San Francisco.

In light of the upcoming observance of Pentecost (Acts 2), Glide Church has much to commend itself as an example of one way the Holy Spirit works and moves among people in our time. In a news release announcing the groundbreaking of two new facilities designed by Glide Church in partnership with others to help working families and homeless people by providing affordable housing and supportive services, Glide is described as “an oasis that has served the poor and disenfranchised for over 40 years. In addition to serving over one million free meals every year, Glide provides dozens of other programs and services, including AIDS testing, health care, women's programs, crisis intervention, literacy and computer training, jobs training and placement, and educational programs for children, youth and family.” The church website gives more background on the story of Glide Church and how its ministry has unfolded over the years. It’s really all very remarkable.

What is striking to me is the diversity of people who make up Glide Church and its ministries, and the strength exuding from that diversity. Just reading about their efforts, and looking at the photos on the website, I have a palpable sense of a pounding pulse of life prevailing at Glide – from the raucous Sunday morning gathering of worshipers to the daily frenzy of activity surrounding their multitude of ministries. Wouldn’t it be great if all churches conveyed that image!

Churches don’t have to be huge to be spirit-filled. They don’t have to replicate everything that Glide is doing. But, I find the example of a church like Glide to be heartening. People -- church people -- can be moved outside themselves, outside what they thought possible, and give expression to the abundant life offered in the Risen Christ in ways that profoundly affects the lives of those around them.

Pentecost truly is a time to reflect on the possibilities inherent in the presence of the wild, uncontrollable, unlimited, powerful and absolutely free Holy Spirit.

They Shall See Visions and Dream Dreams
The period following Easter Sunday is the season of Easter, and it leads to Pentecost Sunday, which is coming up this Sunday. Pentecost is celebrated each year fifty days following Easter.

The subsequent season of the church year, taking us all the way to Advent, is called Ordinary Time. Can you imagine a more boring name for most of the church year?

It seems ironic, really, to move from the glorious celebration of Easter and the season of reflecting on the resurrection power of the Christian faith, culminating in the commemoration of the mighty, rushing entrance of the Holy Spirit onto the scene, empowering Christians with the fire, the energy, that boosts us in our faithfulness, to something called Ordinary Time.

But maybe it would helpful to envision Ordinary Time in a different way. When I was thinking about Pentecost and the imagery of wind, I recalled something from a television program I saw several years ago. The show was Mad About You, and the male lead, Paul Reiser, played a New York filmmaker. Naturally, since it was a comedy, Paul and his wife, played by Helen Hunt, managed always to get into some silly predicament or relationship struggle.

In the episode I recalled, Paul was contracted by Yoko Ono to “film wind.” It was, of course, an impossible assignment, because wind is invisible. The effects of wind can be filmed. The impact of the power and randomness of wind can be filmed. But, wind, in and of itself, cannot be seen or captured in any visual medium.

Perhaps Ordinary Time really means a season of reflection upon what is ordinary for people whose lives are affected by the winds of the Spirit. Indeed, this is extraordinary by the world’s standards, because the Spirit transforms lives; it makes the impossible possible; it inspires faithfulness in ways never imagined without it; it conveys the unseen, yet real and life-giving, presence of God in our midst.

All of this may be unusual or even strange to those who have no time for or interest in the faith. But, for followers of Jesus Christ, who depend upon God for all things, and who embrace resurrection living, practicing spiritual disciplines such as worship, prayer, study, service and generous giving, these are part and parcel of “ordinary” life.

It?s Not The End, But Rather A Beginning
Pomp and Circumstance is a familiar melody, commonly used at graduations, perhaps because it lends itself to a slow, lingering procession of capped and gowned people about to commence to the next stage of their lives. One of the definitions of the verb “graduate” is “to pass by degrees; change gradually.” Wordplays on “pass” and “degrees” notwithstanding, a graduation celebrates a change in a person’s life. It is a passage from one level of maturity and wisdom to another.

The ceremony itself, however, is not the focus. The focus is what the ceremony represents.

Since it has been so long, I remember little about my own graduations. My high school graduation was 35 years ago, from Annandale High School in Virginia. The ceremony was held at the Wolf Trap Center for the Performing Arts, and my only memory is that shortly after we in the Class of 1972 graduated, Wolf Trap burned to the ground. So, when you watch a performance from Wolf Trap on PBS, you’re seeing the later version.

I remember even less about my college graduation from East Carolina University in 1976. I think it was Memorial Day weekend, but I’m not sure anymore. When it came to my graduation from Christian Theological Seminary, listed next to my name in the program was the Latin phrase in absentia, roughly translated, “He ain’t here.” By the time the ceremony rolled around I already had moved hundreds and hundreds of miles away to begin my pastoral ministry. My diploma arrived in the mail.

Memories diminish regarding ceremonies, and, of course, it was the people I encountered as I “passed by degrees” and “changed gradually” that really mattered, anyway. Their words, their examples, and their caring were what influenced me, much more than the information printed in the text books studied, or the inspirational commencement addresses. Just to name a few, I think of Don Armstrong, Jim Coyle, David Carter, Emory Underwood, Ralph Messick, Lester McAllister, T.J. Liggett, Vinton Bradshaw, and Davie Napier. For all of us, the list continues after graduation ceremonies are long over and the signatures fade from our diplomas.

As people of faith, the thing for us to remember is that we can be on someone else’s list. We can “pass it on,” just as others have done so for us. In fact, we are called to be present for graduations in the lives of those around us, sharing in the grace of “passing by degrees and changing gradually” with them.

Worship This Sunday At The Church Of Your Choice
A lot goes on in and around churches.

I read today about several hundred undocumented immigrant workers who fled into a Roman Catholic church when federal agents swept through the area arresting others in the same situation.

Last week a gunman took his own life inside a church after shooting several rounds into a police station in an attempt to draw officers out into the open as targets.

A church in our area hosted a makeshift "tent city" of homeless folks on church property as officials and advocates wrangled about how to address the matter of homelessness in the city.

In some churches, street people are welcomed for meals and shelter; in others, every possible approach is employed to keep them out.

There are churches that surround themselves with American flags, while others are intentional in their witness to a higher allegiance.

Messages condemning homosexuals, liberals and others identified as abominations or unrighteous thunder throughout some churches. The "N-word" is muttered in sanctuaries and at coffee hour even to this day.

The proclamation of the good news of the forgiveness of sins touches the hearts and minds of seekers in other places.

The scriptures are read aloud from the King James Version, the New International Version, the Good News Bible, the New Revised Standard Version, and others.

Some project on screens or walls the words of hymns and songs. Others rely on hymnals.

Depending on where you show up on a given Sunday, you may see worshipers waving their arms, shouting, "Amen," or sitting silently and perfectly still.

The sounds of children enliven some churches, while elsewhere the slightest peep is met with stern glares.

I even once saw a pigeon walk out of a church's elevator, along with several human passengers, and disappear into the crowd in the narthex. No feathers were ruffled in the process, which sometimes is unusual in churches.

Yes, a lot goes on in and around churches. Some of it is relevant, important and uplifting. Some of it is completely off the mark.

Yet, God's power is so great, God's ability to make all things new so surprising, and God's judgment that life overcomes death so firmly and thoroughly established in God's Creation, even the church, with its weaknesses, shortcomings, failures, and startling differences, has a role and place. Even in the church, God's love and presence can be experienced and shared.

God's people are called to be a blessing to others.

In our finer moments we live up to that.

You Can't Choose Your Relatives
A generation ago or so, the songwriting team Avery and Marsh had a number of pieces popular among some church folks including the one that goes, "I am the church; you are the church; we are the church together. All of God's children, all around the world, yes, we're the church together."

Well, there's another one, written in a facetious manner, that I recently stumbled across. The title is "I Can Be A Christian By Myself:"

I can be a Christian by myself.
Leave my dusty Bible on the shelf.
I'll sing a hymn and pray a bit.
God can do the rest of it.

My heart's the church, my head's the steeple.
Shut the door and I'm the people.
I can be a Christian by myself.

Of course, the testimony of scripture is that God's people are bound together in community. We aren't just "people." We're "a people." We are related to each other. For Christians, our bond is faith in Jesus as "the Christ, the Son of the Living God."

Our sense of community is not always evident to the world, or even to ourselves. We permit disagreements over doctrine, social issues, and politics to disrupt our relationships with one another. When others see things differently, we sometimes pick up our toys and go play with someone else. We look for the church where we're "comfortable."

It's a shame, really. In fact, it's a scandal.

In my own tradition, the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ), our forebears made it clear: "Christian Unity is Our Polar Star." They were convinced that the most effective witness to the gospel was a fellowship of believers united in Christ.

They emphasized the responsibility of all Christians to read, study, and interpret the scriptures. They promoted freedom of thought. They believed in the interplay between faith and reason.

Taken together with the pattern of the formation of Christian communities, or "churches," in the New Testament -- the "Body of Christ," as opposed to the Body Parts of Christ -- this means that diversity and differences are not to be feared or avoided. Rather, they are to be embraced.

It has something to do with what Paul terms "the gifts of the spirit." We all bring something to the conversation. We all bring something to the community. We share our understanding, our perspective, our experience, our wisdom, our insights, and we all benefit in the process.

To me, that makes for a strong church. Perhaps it isn't a "comfortable" church. But then, what happens in a comfortable church? People stop praying, they stop witnessing, they stop giving, they stop just about everything else, except maybe trying to keep the organization alive.

Ironically, it is then that death sneaks up on them...us...the church. And then we don't have a choice.

We have to be Christians "by myself."

"Here Am I, Send Me"
In a recent discussion among clergy colleagues we talked about some of our thoughts and feelings on our role as pastors. It was clear we brought a variety of perspectives. I also read just yesterday a book written by a clergyperson who mentioned that when he travels he never tells his airline seat mate that he is a minister.

I remember that when I went to seminary I encountered people with a wide range of expectations and assumptions about what it meant to be a minister. As I told my colleagues the other day, I am a minister because I was called, not because I ever had the intention or desire to become one. So, my initial foray into that world, showing up at seminary, brought about a lot of reflection on my part.

But I assured myself by the clear awareness I wasn’t the only unlikely candidate for ministry present on campus. Some folks there, students and otherwise, seemed to me completely nuts, and I truly couldn’t figure out why they were there.

One person (not nuts) I found intriguing was a fellow named Tim. He pulled some time down at the state farm for saying “No, thanks,” when Uncle Sam sent his Vietnam-era greetings. Sporting wild hair and a beard, Tim very obviously was intelligent, often wearing a shirt selected from his incarceration wardrobe. I paid attention when Tim spoke in class because he had a lot more on the ball than I, and I wanted to learn.

On the other end of the spectrum from my point of view was a guy whose approach to faith struck me as very simplistic. He (perhaps 3 out of 5 on the nuts scale) was very friendly towards me, and I don’t mean to sound critical. It’s just that he was hemispherically different from many of the more intellectual people there.

I remember one day as I was leaving the building, I ran into this guy and he excitedly told me something he discerned about prayer. He said, “If my grandmother was driving her car and saw that she was about to collide with another car in an intersection, and she prayed, ‘Thank you, God, for keeping that car from hitting me,’ there wouldn’t be an accident! She thanked God in advance, so God would stop the accident from happening!” I just stood there as he hustled away reveling in his epiphany, which, no doubt, found its way into his next sermon. I’m currently rethinking his rating, possibly bumping him up a nut.

A number of my peers were enrolled only because they were required to get a Masters of Divinity degree by their denominational credentialing authorities in order to remain as pastors. In spite of the education they were working to obtain, they knew the real truth about God and Jesus, and no one was going to tell them otherwise.

That truth seemed to have a lot to do with white middle-class Midwestern North American conservative morals and values. Some of these fellows (yes, the ones I knew from this segment of the seminary population all were men) questioned the salvation of the unblinking professors who insistently challenged them to mine deeper ideas.

Then, there was Vinton Bradshaw, one of my all-time favorite people, who was the Director of Field Education at the seminary. He also was a mentor to countless folks like me over his long career. Vinton told us that we should "think of ourselves as ministers," right from the get-go. I had difficulty doing that, because I didn't quite know what that meant, but he valiantly dragged me along, anyway.

With the world, culture and church changing so much over the last generation or two, it's difficult to know what it means to be a minister. Sometimes church folks, not wanting things to change, insist on the minister fitting a mold or image that means something to them. Ministers hold themselves to a variety of standards they feel are appropriate. These don't always overlap exactly.

Grace, patience, growth, and understanding are beneficial to all concerned in the relationship.