#UMC

Love you, #Orlando

Orlando suffered deeply this week. On our holy day, Sunday, early in the morning, 49 dear souls were lost to us at the hands of yet another mass shooting. I keep hearing the strains of people saying that Love will win out every time, and that love conquers hate. I believe that. I hope that. I dream that. I keep hearing about love…

All the while my heart is crying deep sobs in pain. Orlando has experienced tragedy and horror, and now families are visiting mortuaries and hospitals…some praying and hoping for their loved one to return to them whole, while others are planning memorials for their young.

The pain is cut deeper by what a wise woman, Rev. Jennifer Yocum, said on her Facebook post. She wrote to her straight friends, reminding them that the tragedy in Orlando was more than a shooting in a bar. Bars, she said, are places of sanctuary where people who have to hide go to be free in their own skin. They are “communication centers, communications hubs, our reminder that we are not alone.” And Jennifer takes it deeper. She reminds us that “when churches would not let us cross their thresholds, the bars were where we held our memorial services and our weddings.” (Ouch, Church!). And they are places where human rights are organized, where hope is born.

And then Jennifer states that in Orlando this week, an atrocity occurred against a group of Latino/Latina LGBTQ persons, who were doubly disavowed in culture. And #Pulse was a place that served as a “double sanctuary” for them.

Her words cut deep. For I know that we have not been Church or Sanctuary to many, and especially to our LGBTQ brothers and sisters. I attended our #UMC General Conference, and I felt the agony of once again being unable to state out loud that “open hearts, open minds, open doors” applies to All. Instead, it applies to those who are already “in,” those who are self-proclaimed as “valuable.”

So now there are three emotions rolling around my soul: Deep sadness/pain; revulsion…the feeling of throwing up; and hope for something different. The pain and sadness are about the loss of life and the persistence of evil. The revulsion is about my own United Methodist Church, that can’t decide to broaden the circle, and that forgot our central theological theme: Grace. It makes me sick to my stomach. The hope is that somehow, someway this will change. I don’t want change tomorrow. I want change to happen Now. Today. Immediately. #ItsTime for Love to win out over evil. There is no other way for us go forward.

Tears are flowing. God is crying with us. Today we mourn. And today we work to Love everyone, an action that crushes evil, an action born out of the understanding that God is Love. May.It.Be.So. Love You, #Orlando! Every single one of you.

EASTER!!!

The women were disbelieved by the men. I could say a lot about that, but I won’t. The men disciples were at best, confused. At least they had some idea that something crazy might have happened, though their brains couldn’t comprehend it. Peter, at least, looked at his doubts, and perhaps remembered some of Jesus’ words, and ran to the tomb. But the real moment of understanding came when Jesus walked with two of them on a road, and then appeared to all of them in a room. He showed them his hands and his feet so they could believe. He explained their own scriptures, especially the parts that pointed to this very moment. And they experienced joy beyond-belief. That’s the kind of joy that comes when you don’t need CNN-factoids to understand. What they knew for sure was that Jesus was here, that Jesus stomped over death, and that their worldview had taken a seismic shift.

Jesus asked those beloved women and men disciples to do one thing: to preach a change of heart and life for the forgiveness of sins to the world, but starting at home. Whoa! Starting at home? Really Jesus? That means I need to forgive mama, and uppity sister, and mean cousin? Start at home?

The good news is Jesus is alive and well, and our very own homes will go through a seismic transition from tolerance to deep binding love. The good news is that the good news is meant for me and mine as well as for everyone else in the world.

Sometimes we still don’t believe. But today, on this gorgeous Arizona Easter morning, I do believe! I can see my own transformation and I can see it in those I love and in those I don’t know too well. And I’m sure it matters to the world, and to me.

He has risen! He has risen indeed!

FRIDAY – Noon to Three

The part of Good Friday that strikes me today is how the elements responded to Jesus’ death. The curtain in the sanctuary ripped in two, and the earth shook, and the lights in the sky went out. The darkness happened at noon, when the sun is normally bright in the sky, and the light disappeared for three hours. I can imagine the people murmuring together in fear because the sun had left their view, and I can imagine the runs to the store for candles and extra food in case this disaster lasted longer than their preparations. I can imagine the sight and smell of fear, because the sky responded with a declaration of “Lights Out!”

Today I think about that. And a part of my soul senses that loss. i wasn’t there, but I can feel Mary’s pain, and I can imagine the disciples’s confusion, and I can relate to fear. So, from a distance of over 2000 years, I still recall the image of the lights going out for a long period of time. And I wonder what our world would be like if we knew that feeling of light-lessness and if we could see, sense, smell the sorrow that changed the nature’s response to its order.

I will stop there. There is nothing more to say today. Except, my soul wails along with the women, the sanctuary, the earth, and the sky…

Holy Thursday

Holy Thursday. Maundy Thursday. The Last Supper. Titles we use to describe this day.

This morning I was aware of the sacredness of the last time the disciples were to share a meal with Jesus, the one they had chosen to follow. The only thing is, they didn’t know it was their last meal. They ate, and laughed, and relaxed around the table as if they had a forever of meals before them. They joked, and recalled some recent moments, and of course, listened up every time Jesus spoke out. And he had some things to say…and they heard them, but did not understand. They didn’t know what he meant about the bread and wine being his body and blood. Where did that come from? And when he said he wouldn’t eat again until everything was fulfilled, they wondered about whether he was about to enter another 40-day fast. And when he pointed out that one of them would betray him, they rallied with self-doubt and finger-pointing. I imagine it was, to them, just another meal with Someone they didn’t quite understand.

And so they left the meal unaware of the importance of this moment. Clueless to the limited time they had with Him. Certainly, they left the meal without knowing the world would be remembering that meal even up to the year 2015.

And I feel the same sometimes. Clueless. Unaware. Unknowing. The story lives in me, and yet I still don’t fully get it. A simple meal shared among friends on a Holy Day, which becomes the Holy Communion that sustains my faith today, on Holy Thursday. I can’t explain why. But I can tell you when I take Communion, I remember that they didn’t get it either, and yet that sharing of bread and cup sustained the disciples through some pretty tough days to come.

And today, it sustains us too. We don’t know what’s ahead. We just know we will make it somehow because all our meals are holy, sacred, nourishing, spiritual moments with God in Jesus Christ. And that what our brains can’t fathom, our spirits call “home.” May your Holy Thursday be a connecting point to the One who loves you more than you can know…

Who Is My Neighbor?

I’ve been thinking about our country’s response to the #Zimmerman verdict. The senseless loss of #TravonMartin has stirred up a larger problem that has been ignored. We are still unjustly racist, after all these years.

Preaching on the Good Samaritan this week, reminded me that we need to be asking ourselves the question, “Who is my neighbor?” Jesus’ answer to the question posed by the lawyer was broad, inclusive, and beyond boundaries. ALL of God’s creatures are our neighbors. We are not given the choice to segregate our neighbors based on who we like, or who is like us. As followers of Jesus, we have a standard of “ALL.”

The other point Jesus makes is that the one who follows God is the one who is merciful. When we pass on by the hurting and those treated as “less than” us, we are not living out our faith. We are, instead, living as “Virtual Christians,” who talk a good talk, but don’t put their feet on the same road. But when we act out in mercy with compassion for the hurting, then we are a part of God’s kingdom. Then we are making heaven come to earth.

So it looks like we have work to do. A whole group of our neighbors, our brothers and sisters, continue to live in fear for their lives, and the lives of their children. It is time for this to stop. It will end when each of us love radically, relationally, and sacrificially. It will end when we march against unfair judgments, or, it you think otherwise, unfair laws. It will end when we stand up as real people of faith, and say, “No more!” Loving God means loving our neighbor.

Trayvon Martin, and his family and community, are our neighbors. Zimmerman too, and the Jury and the Judge…all are our neighbors.

We will find our way through to love. Not without pain or consequence, but with strength and courage. We have things to change… Are you ready to join the life of loving ALL?