Fun Fact

I was told this afternoon that we have, HAVE to be done by 6:30 on Tuesday evening, because the arena has to be prepped for a Monster Truck/Tractor Pull scheduled for later that night.

It's all a tractor pull, isn't? In the church and out?

And lots of Monsters, trucks and otherwise, sure to be charging through the arena.

(update: the Monster Truck event is March 2 and 3, but apparently it takes that long to get the place set-up)

Special Prayers, Part 2

One of our bishops (I should know his name but I do not) invited us to pray in a way that is, he says, a popular form of prayer in Korea (the bishop was, in fact, Korean). He called it Tongsung Kido.

All of us were invited to stand, and pray aloud in our first language, all our deepest prayers for this Conference. The whole Council of Bishops clustered on the dais, held hands and led the prayers.

Again, I noticed a certain resistance to the invitation on the part of a good number of the delegates, who remained seated (some checking their phones).

I do not think there is a resistance to prayer itself (I hope not, though at least one has confessed to me that the prayers seems agenda- rather than Spirit driven), or if it is a reluctance to go beyond familiar forms (a “values-based decision” instead of an “aspiration-based decision”).

Indeed some are uncomfortable with forms of prayer and worship that are not customary to them. But if some have suspicion that they are being herded by our practices today, I found myself thinking that Tongsung Kido is, by another name, "chorus praying," and familiar to me from the days when I did revival  preaching in the mountains of Western North Carolina.

Everybody praying loudly aloud, and one time the host pastor asked me to "lead" the prayer. HOW? By being louder than the others. But I tried, and sure enough, when I said, "For we pray in the name of Jesus Christ..." the volume immediately muted to a hum and everyone, as if on cue, said "Amen."

Didn't feel new to me at all, in other words.

We ended the "public" session with Holy Communion (delegates have more orientation and training to do). It was quite moving, for two reasons.

One, as a part of Passing the Peace, a bishop who had been part of the Commission on the Way Forward talked of the hard discussions, disagreements, strained relationships that inevitably resulted from 17 months of intense work. Before their final Communion together (as they concluded their work), the Convener, she said, "gave us a time for any repair work that needs to be done. She invited us to go to others on the Commission and say, "_____________, if I have done anything, intentionally and unintentionally, to harm you, please forgive me. May be the peace of Christ be with you." What a wonderful, reconciling moment.
 
Then we received the elements and were anointed with oil. A North American Bishop served me bread: "Tom, the Body of Christ given for you. Amen." And African bishop held before me the Chalice: "Tom, the Blood of Christ poured out for you," in such a rich, beautiful accent that hearing it I broke into tears. Then, a European bishop, I think German, who anointed me with oil: "The blessing of the father, the Son and the Holy Spirit be yours. Go, be a blessing to others." And now I was crying freely. 

We left a few minutes later. In the lobby, serenading our exit, was an impromptu choir all sporting rainbow stoles and hats and such... Like others, I stood to watch for a moment or two.

Only then, leaving The Dome, we ran into this: I suspect that this will be our lives the next few days: in between the voices.

Bishop Gary Mueller had told us the story of his father, who was very sick and said it was easy to live joyously when you have your health. But when you are sick you have to muster faith to keep believing.

Another bishop had led us in ten minutes of Silent Prayer,  reminding us that Silence is God's first language (St. John of the Cross). It would be easy, I guess, to scream at the screamers (for my part I crossed by on the other side, as it were, and made my way toward the hotel), but better to pray (chorus prayer might be an option on the street!), and keep silence, and confess our own sins, and pray to be blessed to be a blessing.

One more thing... and I am embarrassed to admit it. But it is Saturday. Been a long day. Tennessee lost. I am having PRS withdrawal. So instead of heading straight back to the hotel, I stopped in a place I saw along the way: Hamburger Mary's. You can look it up on Google. I will say no more about it except that I am glad the street preachers were behind me when I chose to get a beer here. 

 

Special Prayers

After lunch we were asked to take about 15 minutes for a special time of prayer for “for our  LBGTQI+ siblings” in the auditorium and around the world. Special prayers because they feel the full weight of the matters before this General Conference and excluded by a church leaving them out.

Delegates were invited to move to the center of the room where a cluster of folk had already circled-up around a rainbow flag. Some did, but the circle remained rather small.

 

People were also encouraged to pray with the “LBGTQI+ siblings” who were at the tables, and there were some table prayers, I am sure, and more than I could discern, but I could almost feel a spirit of “whataboutism” that seems to bow-up every time anything is mentioned.

"Whatabout" is a subtext of almost every conversation here: "But what about the Bible?" "What about Love." Every statement or request seems to raise a “but what about…?”

At this moment I could almost sense a “But what about the delegates who feel their church is leaving them? Are we going to have special prayers for them?”

The whole while the praise team was singing the Hezekiah Walker song that most of us have heard. I Need You to Survive:

I need you, you need me.
We're all a part of God's body.
Stand with me, agree with me.
We're all a part of God's body.

It is his will, that every need be supplied.
You are important to me, I need you to survive.

I pray for you, you pray for me.
I love you, I need you to survive.
I won't harm you with words from my mouth.
I love you, I need you to survive.

It is his will, that every need be supplied.
You are important to me, I need you to survive.

The line that most jumped out at me were these: I won’t harm you with words from my mouth.

Certainly that is wonderful intent, but unless no words are said at all this week (and even that is a kind of hurt to those who need to hear blessing), I am not sure how the words that are being and will be said this weekend can not hurt someone. Such is our dilemma.

Lunch and Fasting

The lunch break was a time for self-directed prayer and fasting. I am not sure about the prayer part, but few of the delegates fasted, and many were looking for coffee, which had been mysteriously absent from the concession stands most of the morning. I noticed one of our delegates dozing and sent him a text asking if he were not excited and engaged. He replied, "I am prayerfully sleepy." I reminded him of the Psalm, "God gives rest to his beloved." He said, "Amen."

I should have brought binoculars. I am WAY away from the floor and the action.

But, I feel like I have a bit of "heaven's" view, joining those who are witnessing from afar. With the invisible ones among us, we are in fact surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses, who are praying for us as we continue to pray.

During the lunch hour I received an email from the Uniting Methodists, and this article attached. I thought it excellent, and wanted to share.

https://mailchi.mp/unitingmethodists/newsletter-2019-02-23?e=c9fdcf1b16

Oh, and Go Vols!

Those Who Are Not Here (and Are)

Saturday Morning

            When Jews celebrate the Seder meal—a annual home/family observance recalling the Passover and God’s deliverance of the Chosen People from Egypt—a place at the table is always set for the prophet Elijah. A plate and an empty chair, waiting should the prophet appear to announce the coming of the Messiah. Elijah, who by his absence, is very present at the meal.

              Years ago, Zan Holmes—a famous African-American United Methodist pastor from Texas—preached to a group of us clergy in Morganton. Dramatically, he took an empty chair and put it by the pulpit and said, “We invite Jesus to sit here, right here, among us, to listen, to witness, to correct and bless us.” It was a powerful moment. We could not see Jesus but we surely felt he was there.

              Here, today, I am reminded of both those things.

The convention floor is nearly full of delegates, as you can see, but there are still quite a few empty tables inside the bar, and quite a few more outside. (Observers such as myself, and there are three or four hundred of us, I am guessing, right now, are on the mezzanine level).  It could be that some delegations have not arrived. Maybe the plan calls for working groups and the extra tables give the delegates room to move if they need to.   

While I am not sure what the empty tables signify administratively, I am going to take a cue from the Seder and from Dr. Holmes and consider them act of spiritual remembrance and prophetic symbolism: that we have set places, here, for Jesus and his invisible children, for the Wesley’s, Coke and Asbury, and all the ones who are a part of our history or part of our mission and all the little ones to whom we minister. They are powerfully present by their absence, invited to witness what we do and how we do it, to correct us for the Love of God and Love of neighbor, and to bless us moving forward. we cannot see but who are among us and with us nonetheless.

              I made it in past the first wave of protesters. Not many of them this morning—only two where I was—and I suspect they are from Westboro Baptist Church or some such, with predictable signs and hatred. I was walking just behind another guy as we approached The Dome. The two with signs swooped in on him which left me room to slip past. I looked back, felt both the guilt and relief (schadenfreude) that antelopes feel when the lion gets the other one. I guess if I were more of a Christian (or a tougher antelope) I would have gone back to help my brother extricate himself. Soon, though, he was right behind me entering the auditorium. He got free quickly enough.

              A group of Queer Clergy have stood to sing and stomp a little bit. They have signs and banners of their own. They are just announcing their presence. I expect we will hear and see more.

              The most of the day today is taken up with prayers and praise. So far we have prayed for various missional needs in Europe, sung How Great Thou Art in Swedish and Russian (at least; I was a little late). Right now, a wonderful, WONDERFUL praise team from somewhere in Africa is playing an upbeat song and it is infectious. While the drums and bass continue underneath, an African Bishop is calling us to “Pray, Pray, PRAY! For the Church! For God to Build the Church! Pray LOUDLY for the UNITED METHODIST CHURCH!”

              Over the course of the day, till 4, there will be various times and ways of praying. We are being reminded of how global, how diverse is the church, how polyvalent our ways of praise and praying, but all showing love of God. We are being asked not just to SAY prayers, but to let our prayers be a means of hearing--the way God speaks to us.

              The bishop is saying, “We pray to Christ, the Prince of Peace. We don’t need a script to pray. We pray. We pray as the Holy Spirit leads. If it is time for lunch, but we feel the Spirit, we pray. Our stomachs can wait.”

              Listening to this man, you want to believe that God will answer his prayers, and those who pray with him, that “this work will continue and grow and prosper.”

              I pray that this morning and afternoon is more than an empty, futile exercise. What I mean is that the day is designed, it is written, to help us listen to God and to each other. What I fear is that we have already quit listening, if we ever started. God, make me a liar and you be the Truth.

              We have set a place for you here. Though we cannot see you, be powerfully present with us. Amen.

 

(The Observers area to my left...