Unity and Disagreement

One of our Sunday school classes recently studied parts of the United Methodist Book of Resolutions, which articulates the UMC’s position on various political and social issues pertaining to our faith.  In class, there was often disagreement expressed about some of the UMC’s positions.  And that’s okay.  Many decisions are made in the general conference with a thin margin on the majority’s side. Afterward, people are welcome to continue to voice their dissent and hopefully the discussion continues with civility. Some decisions are revisited every four years.

When there is a heated disagreement where sizable portion of the membership differ with the majority, it is tempting for the “winning side” to say, “This is what we voted on. Now be a good Methodist and go along with it.” 

This is a mistake. We don’t tell people what to think. We don’t tell them to be quiet. We can’t force them to cooperate. And we won’t say, “If you don’t like it, there’s the road.”

Making resolutions gives us direction and enables us to act. But the discussion is ongoing, especially in the areas of controversy, such as ecology, poverty, human sexuality, involvement in government, etc. 

When I first considered joining the UMC, one of the things that made me want to join is how they are willing to grapple with the hard topics, often before anyone else will. Methodists were some of the first ones to call for slavery to be abolished. Methodists recognized how alcoholism was causing so much havoc in families, and they called for action.

So of course there is going to be sharp disagreement at times.

I like it. In many churches, people are required to have only one set of thoughts where no diversity is allowed. But in Methodism, there’s true unity, where you get to have your thoughts and you get to express them and be heard, even if you’re in the minority.

Come to the Party

In the parable of the prodigal son, the story ends with the older brother standing outside the house seething as the people have their party.  He’s mad at the people, his little brother, and his father.

This is the end of a series of parables that Jesus used to address Pharisees and teachers who resented his going to parties with the tax collectors and prostitutes. Usually, when I read about that older brother, I find myself contemptuous of him. But Jesus was not trying to lead us to contempt. Look at the story again, and you see the father begging his son to come in, to be a part of the celebration.

Likewise, Jesus was not condemning the onlookers. He was asking them to join the party.  This is an interesting concept. He’s not angry with the self righteous. He’s not telling them to shut up and go away. He wants them come be a part of the joy.

It was hard for them. They wanted to shut the party down which was not going to happen. However, they could join if they wanted.

Question: Do I want to make my world a highly controlled (and joyless) place or can I lay aside my selfish desires and join the party that’s already in progress?

Which Mountain Are You Climbing?

Which Mountain Are You Climbing? 

In Hebrews 12:18-24, the writer summons images of two different mountains for the reader to consider.  

First, there is Sinai, the dark forbidding mountain on which the Ten Commandments were written. Remember how there was thunder and lightning, how the ground shook at the sound of God’s voice? The people were afraid and they knew if they touched even the foot of the mountain, they would die.

And yet that fear and dread did not keep the Israelites from straying. Right there in the shadow of the dark mountain, they made a golden calf--something smaller, prettier,  less frightening to worship.

Anxiety over an angry God and fear of punishment--these things do not  inspire virtue. They never have.  Yet, many of us still see the God of Mt. Sinai and we try to scare ourselves and others into living right. How well is that working for us?

Check around the house to see if you have anything equivalent to a golden calf.  

The writer told us to put aside the image of Sinai and focus on Zion, the beautiful city of Jerusalem set on a hill.  The Jews thought of Zion and it made them think of home, a place where they could reside fully with each other and with God.  Rather than avoiding it, they went to it, singing joyous hymns along the way, celebrating that they could go home and be free.  

Zion became our metaphor for heaven, the home we are headed for, where all will be made right, and we’ll be with the God who is lovely and healing.   

Zion is the image that allows us to endure difficulties and avoid temptation. Zion inspires us to persevere. Zion cheers us when we’re weary. It’s what puts a song of praise in our hearts as we make our journey.  

Which mountain are you climbing?  

The Touching Spirit

The city I visited was very nice. Beautiful scenery. The helping staff at the hotel and the restaurants were nice and went out of their way to be helpful and polite.  But the customers were a different matter. I saw people scream at staff members on two occasion, simply, I assume because they could get away with it.  Not cool.

I went walking every morning in perfect weather amidst beautiful landscaping with tall fir trees and lovely flowers of every hue.  Lots of other people did too.  But none of them looked at me, much less said hello like we do here in Oklahoma.  I’m glad to be back.

Around here, when I encounter someone who looks down and stays quiet, I assume something might be wrong, so I make sure to catch their eye and say, “Hi, how are you?” Because I really want to know.  

At church, I hug, pat shoulders, or shake hands with everyone I encounter. It’s partly me. I’m a toucher.  It’s also them--most people need a touch. Sometimes a person doesn’t want to be touched. It’s not hard to tell, and I respect that, but most people like the contact.  

Jesus was a toucher. He could have healed every sick person he encountered with a word, or a blink, or even a thought. But usually he touched them, even the lepers. Especially the lepers.  

We come to church for the contact with each other as well as with God.  We could stay home to worship. We can turn on the TV to hear some preaching and listen to music, and for some, by necessity, that has to suffice.  But there’s something healing about the physical company of others. It’s allows for a fuller experience of the Holy Spirit’s presence.   

Everywhere we go, we have the chance to heal or to harm. We can bless or we can curse.  I opt for blessing when I can. I try to avoid hurting others and I hope others do to.  But I hate being ignored and I hate ignoring anyone who crosses my path, whether it be on a walk, at the hotel, or on a plane.  

Or at church.  

To Bless and To Heal

A couple years ago, at the OKC Art Museum, we saw an exhibit of works done by artists commissioned by the WPA during the days of the Great Depression. I was surprised at their quality and moved by the stories they told.  

There was one piece that I found quite unpleasant but now I can’t forget of an old woman peeling potatoes. It was a dark image, almost silhouetted, but I could see her hands were covered with wounds she had sustained over the years from her arduous work. The artist showed them as if the wounds had never healed but stayed fresh, with more added each year.  Her face was the same way.  

The artist wanted us to remember that period of history and not get over it quickly because the people of our past suffered in part to give us our present and future.

I get the message. It’s important.  But I’m a minister and I want people to get better.

I wanted to reach into the canvass to take the wounded hands of that woman. I wanted to place my palms on her cheeks and kiss her scarred forehead. I wanted to tell her she was not alone, that she was loved, and that her work and life was important.  

It’s impossible to do that to the woman in the picture. It’s pretty hard to convey a blessing of worth to each other in the present time. But surely it’s not impossible.  

Time With Jesus

“A woman named Martha welcomed him (Jesus) into her home. She had a sister named Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet and listened to what he was saying. But Martha was distracted by many tasks; so she came to him and asked, ‘Lord, don’t you care that my sister has left me to do all the work myself? Tell her then to help me.”

But the Lord answered her, “Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted about many things; there is need of only one thing. Mary has chosen the better part, which will not be taken away from her.” (Luke 10:38-42). 

Time with Jesus. Essentially, when Jesus spoke to Martha, he said, “this is what Mary wants so this is what she gets, and no one will be taking it away from her.” 

When I read this story, the questions I take away are, “What exactly was this gift? Can I have it too? And what would it look like? 

Is it only his words in the Bible? That’s good and more people ought to do that, but is that all? Isn't there some way I can actually spend time with the actual presence of Christ?

You know, I have a list of people that I want to simply spend time with. Not do something with, just BE with. Special ones—family and friends, and those I would like to get to know. And since I’m dreaming I think of people in the past. And then people of the future—generations of children who have yet to arrive on the scene.

I want to sit and talk. Ask questions. Share thoughts. I want to give and receive encouragement. I want to talk about my dreams and hear theirs. And I want to put my arms around them—if they’d let me. 

That’s what I wish for when I think of spending time with Jesus. I don’t want just words on a page. I want the real thing, to sit near him, hear his words to me, have him listen to me, to hear that he loves me, to exchange hugs with him. You know, actually BE with Jesus. 

Is Jesus saying I could have this and be secure that it would not be taken away? And how do I claim it? Is it really a matter to setting aside my other concerns and focusing on him? That’s not so easy, but it’s not impossible. Could it be… simple? 

I guess we could work on it and see. But to be honest, it hasn't seemed all that simple.  

Fish, Bread, and Honey

“Which of you, if your son asks for bread, will give him a stone? Or if he asks for a fish, will give him a snake?  If you, then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him!” (Matthew 7:9-11)

What do you expect of God?

Tell the truth. Haven’t many of us expected God to withhold pleasant gifts because we think HE thinks it would be bad for us?  And don’t many of us think that God puts us through unpleasant, even awful things, and expects us to thank Him for loving us enough to discipline us?

We expect snakes and stones, and force ourselves say we’re thankful for them. We hate to say it but we think God is mean and expects us to be grateful about it.  

I wonder how life would be if we saw God as the Good Shepherd, who lets us lie in green pastures by still waters.  How would we pray to a God who delights in our company and longs to give us the desires of our hearts? 

I know. All this sounds good, but how do we explain all those awful things that happen to us? If God is so sweet, why is life so bitter? 

I think of how God once provided honey on the ground to sustain Israel’s army, but King Saul ordered them not to eat any until they had done their jobs.  (1 Samuel 14:24-25).

Perhaps instead of explaining why bad things happen to good people, we could look for the honey on the ground that we are denying ourselves. There are hard tasks to be done, but good things to be enjoyed along the way.  Don’t miss them.

Ask for bread. Eat the fish. Look for honey.