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...

A trinity of articles...

People are watching…

Note well, if you will, the article from the United Methodist News Service, which suggests that sometimes the "consequences" of splits are overstated.

https://www.wsj.com/articles/methodist-church-faces-possible-schism-over-gay-rights-11550757600

 

https://www.washingtonpost.com/religion/2019/02/22/will-nations-third-largest-church-split-up-over-lgbt-debate-leaders-try-reach-an-answer/?utm_term=.fe8230c7ca3b

 

https://www.umnews.org/en/news/lessons-from-other-denominational-divides

 

These and other articles are everywhere among us. Lots of folks reading and sharing.

I will say that it is sad, to me, that Mr. Renfroe suggests that we are in a cage match (NYT article), with the loser unable to stand and the winner bloodied and battered. That may be an apt metaphor, but if so, we have all already lost. For...

Jesus suggested “They (the world) will know we are Christians by our love.”

 

Cold and Gray (and not just the day)

We’re here, and we’re unclear.

This gray afternoon I ventured out into the cold wind (meteorology as group psychology!) to meet a friend for lunch, who is the assistant to the bishop of one of our conferences.

We ate lasagna at Caleco’s, a St. Louis land-mark, where the “lunch portions” are three times larger than the dinner portions at Paoletti’s.

 I asked her how she was feeling about it. She said, “Sad.” We talked for a while and she recounted how the delegation of which she is apart has not had a meeting since the fall, and even then they didn’t really talk much, or discuss much. They just argued their points.

I told her that I have seen couples who long-ago quit talking and discussing, and anymore were just advancing and defending their point of view. Already ready for the divorce, without fighting to keep what they have.

She said, “I left that meeting last fall thinking, ‘We could have a conference call.’ When I realized that conviction trumps covenant, I knew there was really no point it meeting.”

“A bad divorce,” I said, when there is no resolution, just dissolution. When people haven’t even gone to counseling, or have used the sessions as grinding stones for their particular axe. I just feel like we haven’t talked, really.

Before I left I was made aware, again, of the fact that many UM pastors have not said anything to their people; that many UM people have no idea the General Conference is happening, much less why. That of those who do, more than a few bring preconceptions with them and are not listening to others who may not share their opinions, and certainly not in a spirit of trust and good will.

I reminded her that Ephraim Radner, a conservative Anglican scholar, has claimed that the questions before us have not been settled, because they have not been adequately discussed. They have not been discussed because people are arguing, posturing, but no one is listening.

And I told her that what I felt was missing was the kind of discussion that featured more than a selective reading of the Bible on the one side and a sentimental appeal to experience on the other, but a grappling with texts that takes seriously all of Scripture in light of reason and tradition and experience. (see my “The Way I am Reading," as a very rudimentary experiment in such grappling). And that I wish we could really talk, and not just break it off.

She and I agreed that it is too late for such discussion now, or so it seems. At least at the General Church level. These discussion may have to take place at the local church level, and I hope we can have real discussion. But already, my friend said, she has gotten letters from scores of churches who do not want to talk, among themselves or at all, but are ready to bolt if the vote is anything other than a “traditional” one.

We walked together to the Dome. I asked her why we didn’t go someplace warmer for this Conference. She had asked her bishop. Turns out, because we got the whole convention center for real cheap (because it is off-season, duh) and in hopes of the other revenues that would be generated in hotels and restaurants and such.

I registered. I am a credentialed Observer. Huh? Huh? Pretty good, huh?

I saw a couple of our WNCC delegates, and then ran into Bishop McCleskey. He is retired now, but all bishops are invited to attend these conferences. I asked him how he felt about it. He said, “I don’t know.” He had heard rumors about American percentages and blocks of abstentions and this and that. He is very much for the One Church Plan (see my Pre-Amblings #1), knowing as we all do that it is not perfect, but in hopes of maintaining a united church.

I told him I was not sure I felt good about trusting the future of the Church to the folks I could actually see in the registration area, and we both laughed. God uses all sorts to effect the Divine Will.

We said we would get together for coffee, and I hope we can. He was my District Superintendent when I came into the United Methodist ministry, and made my first appointment. I asked after his wife. “Margaret is great,” he said. “She is at home riding her horse.” He sounded almost wistful.  Or maybe that was just me!

Another of the delegates said she did not know what they (we) were doing tomorrow. It is a

day of Prayer and Preparation, but no one seems quite clear about whether the delegates are to pray at the Dome (where the Conference is being held) or as they are tramming-up the arch (that is where I plan to be!) or one of the local restaurant/watering holes. Or all the above.

February 22, 2019. 5:30 local