Southwest Conference Blog

We Wait

by Rev. Lynne Hinton

Advent begins. This season of waiting needs not be waited for any longer. It is here. So, now we mark this time. And we wait.

How do you rate your ability to wait? Is the season of anticipation an opportunity for sitting still, for being exactly where you are, noticing what is going on around you? Or can you “wait” as I once watched Pastor TD Jakes demonstrate in a sermon as a servant serves? Tray in hand, one arm behind your back, bowed in submission.

The truth is, we probably don’t do either. We pick another brand of “waiting” altogether. We read a book, or work on a laptop, play games on our phone, using our “wait time” as another opportunity to be distracted from where we are, to be somewhere other than the waiting.

Perhaps we choose a different way of waiting this year. Maybe it would benefit our monkey minds just to sit in what feels like “mindless wander” but might actually be “mindfulness.” Perhaps we ask, ‘what is this place I am waiting? What am I even waiting for? How is it in my heart now that I am still and can listen?’

Or perhaps our waiting could involve serving, to learn a new way of humility, of surrender to someone else’s idea, to let go of our need to be recognized, honored, or served, and instead, “wait” on someone else.

If you’ve been in church for any length of time, you understand Advent as the waiting for Christ’s coming. And we change the liturgical colors and we light candles on a wreath. We sing songs of anticipation, we hear passages of hope; but our waiting gets filled up with new activities, more tasks, more busyness so that we find ourselves neither really serving others or being still. We just simply fill up this season like we do all the others.

You could do it differently, you know. Advent, I mean. You could choose this to be your season to be still, to listen to your heart, your body, to honor what is, not what you expect to come, to accept the liminal space of “not yet.”

I’d like to mark this time as slightly different than how I typically manage the month of December. I’d like this time to be more than writing the Christmas letter, getting all the cards mailed on time, buying gifts because this has become the acceptable way to say I love you.

I’d like to be still, to learn humility. I’d like not to have to distract myself when there are a few minutes before the next thing. I’d like to learn how to wait well.

I hope you learn it too.

Bathrooms Matter

by Dr. Kristina “Tina” Campbell

When I was studying for my D.Min. degree, I was commuting between British Columbia and Minnesota to do my class work, so I pretty much took any class that was compatible with me being away from my responsibilities as the director of a treatment center for addiction.

One summer I signed up for a class on Hans Kung at Luther Theological Seminary, part of the consortium of schools where I was enrolled as a student. Being from out of town, I required student housing, so signed up to live in a dorm for the month I would attend class.

When I arrived at Luther, I was rather shocked and more than a little dismayed to discover that I was going to be housed in the men’s dorm. Alas, in this dark age, there were no dorms for women and virtually no female students attending classes at Luther. I was further mortified to learn that I would have to use the men’s bathroom in the dorm, and I was cavalierly informed by the dorm supervisor that I would be required to hang a sign on the door of the bathroom whenever I was occupying the space.

I gritted my teeth and complied with the bathroom protocol only to discover that my male dorm mates thought it was great fun to bang on the door and yell out obscenities when I was inside the bathroom. I could feel myself sinking into a feeling of depressed anxiety, always wondering who these door bangers were, and wondering if they were the people in the rooms next to mine. I couldn’t think of an appropriate response.

With these unfortunate bathroom experiences under my belt, I shuffled into the first meeting of my class on Hans Kung and discovered that it was being taught by the internationally respected theologian Dr. Warren Quanbeck. Dr. Quanbeck had attended discussions on Vatican II and was well known for his participation in the World Council of Churches. I felt right at home with his teaching style as he appeared in class in well-worn blue jeans and a plaid flannel shirt. Very Minnesota! As the class concluded, he announced, “Campbell, please stay after class.” I found myself wondering what awful experience could be next in my horrifying theological education.

Much to my delight and surprise, Dr. Quanbeck calmly announced to me: “You don’t need to study Hans Kung, but I was wondering if you would like to meet in my study to discuss T.S. Eliot?” This scholar of great grace had apparently heard of some of my work with the marginalized and of my interest in writing. I gratefully, extremely gratefully, accepted his offer.

As the weeks went by, Dr. Quanbeck revealed to me that he was dying, and that he wanted to know more about my work with Native American and Canadian belief systems. We had long discussions about many topics, and didn’t dodge the difficult subject of death. He made my weeks at Luther some of the most meaningful of my life. Dr. Quanbeck died shortly after I returned to Canada.

Sadly, bathrooms are still an issue, and Rep. Nancy Mace of South Carolina is trying to pass legislation that would prevent Sarah McBride, the first openly trans elected member of Congress, from using the women’s bathroom. Really, America, is this how we want to use our valuable time and energy???

Ms. McBride has gracefully stated, “I’m not here to fight about bathrooms,” but we need to take up her fight on behalf of any people who are being bullied for any reason.

In her beautifully poignant memoir, Sarah McBride speaks of the importance of human beings acting out a graceful and loving way of living in order to set an example for others to follow. She wants us to set the tone of how others will live and be. We are challenged to demonstrate our beliefs through our behavior.

In my experience at Luther, I had firsthand experience with this concept. The men who inhabited my dorm set an example of bullying. Dr. Quanbeck, on the other hand, modeled grace, acceptance, calm, and welcome.

We are the United Church of Christ where all are welcome. We will not allow Sarah McBride or any other trans person to be bullied or distracted from their calling. Bathrooms do matter. How we behave matters a great deal. We are challenged to live out the words “no matter who you are or where you are on life’s journey, you are welcome here.”

Honoring Veterans, Serving Our Communities, and Leading with Love

by SWC Associate Conference Minister Rev. Dr. Derrick Elliott

A letter to the Clergy of the Southwest Conference:

As we approach Veterans Day, we are reminded of the incredible sacrifices made by the men and women who have served in the armed forces. Veterans Day offers us a chance to reflect on the values of courage, commitment, and service that our veterans embody—a reminder of our own call to serve and support one another in faith.

For those in your congregations who have served, or who have loved ones in service, I encourage you to take a moment this weekend to honor and acknowledge their contributions. As a veteran myself, having served in both the Army and Air Force, I hold a deep, personal appreciation for the dedication and resilience required of our service members. I know firsthand the unique challenges and the profound sense of purpose that military service can bring, as well as the need for understanding, healing, and support afterward.

Moreover, this Sunday also holds unique significance as many of you will be preaching in the wake of the recent election. Our communities may be processing a mix of emotions, from hope to concern to uncertainty. As we step into our pulpits, let us strive to offer words that unite, uplift, and encourage healing across differences. The message of Christ’s love, justice, and peace is a powerful balm in times like these, and I trust each of you to bring compassion and wisdom to the task of pastoring those you serve.

I also want to acknowledge those of you who, like me, work outside the church in various fields while balancing ministry within your congregations. Your commitment to serve both the church and the wider community is invaluable, as it extends the reach of the Gospel and reflects Christ’s love in workplaces, schools, hospitals, and beyond. Your work often goes unseen but remains a powerful testament to our faith in action. Know that you are deeply appreciated for your ministry both inside and outside church walls.

As people of God, let us uphold our veterans in prayer, giving thanks for their dedication and asking for peace, healing, and strength in their lives. I also encourage you to consider how we, as a conference, can support veterans in our communities year-round, recognizing the unique needs they may have in the journey toward wholeness and peace.

As we gather for worship this weekend, may our reflections on Veterans Day and the recent election remind us of the strength and resilience found in our communities of faith and service. Together, let us honor the gifts and sacrifices of all who have served, embracing them as we continue our shared mission of love and healing.

We Are All Connected

by Rev. Lynne Hinton

Writer Joseph Campbell tells a story of a police officer saving a young man’s life as he was planning to commit suicide by jumping off a bridge. The police officer saw the person about to jump, exited the car from the passenger’s side, ran to him, and grabbed the man just as he fell, then slipping and falling with him. They were both then rescued by the driver of the car, the other police officer, and both were pulled to safety.

Campbell writes about this encounter, “Do you realize what had suddenly happened to that policeman who had given himself to death with that unknown youth? Everything else in his life had dropped off – his duty to his family, his duty to his job, his duty to his own life – all of his wishes and hopes for his lifetime had just disappeared. He was about to die.”

Later a newspaper reporter asked the officer, ‘why didn’t you let go? You would have been killed.’ And his reported answer was, ‘I couldn’t let go. If I had let that young man go, I couldn’t have lived another day of my life.’”

“Why?” Campbell wanted to know. Why would anyone defy the supposedly first law of nature, self-preservation, to save another person? Why would someone risk their life for someone else? Campbell believes it is because there are other laws, stronger and deeper laws, operating within us. Wayne Muller describes these laws as coming from, “a deep mutuality that resonates within us, an inner knowing that we share the same life, the same breath, the same spirit, and the suffering of any single being somehow diminishes us all.”

Campbell sums it up this way: “Our true reality is our identity and unity with all life.”

Despite our differences, our unique individuations, we are all connected and we all share this life together. We are one. We are together.

As we move towards election day in this country, a day of marked division across our nation, may we be mindful that we are truly united by more than what divides us. May we be mindful of the deep and strong laws within us. And may we continue to live with the truth that the suffering of any single being somehow diminishes us all.

Whole Lives Matter: Embracing Intersectionality in a Complex World

by Christopher Schouten

At this month’s national gathering of the United Church of Christ’s Open and Affirming Coalition, I heard a phrase for the first time that struck me deeply: “Whole Lives Matter.” While it echoes the call for dignity that “Black Lives Matter” represents, it points to something both universal and deeply personal—the recognition that we are all complex, multifaceted beings created in the image of God. It calls for the acceptance of every aspect of who we are. To truly see each other, we must see the entirety of each person’s identity—embracing all the layers of race, gender, ability, sexual orientation, socioeconomic status, and other aspects that make us human. This is intersectionality in its truest form.

The Complexity of Intersectionality

Intersectionality, a term coined by Kimberlé Crenshaw in 1989, was originally used to describe the overlapping oppression faced by Black women in systems of racial and gender inequality. It has since expanded to include the myriad ways in which different aspects of identity intersect and affect one’s experience in the world. In the LGBTQIA+ community, intersectionality is crucial because queer identity doesn’t exist in isolation from race, class, ability, or gender identity. We are all many things, and each part of us shapes how we experience the world.

To simply label someone as “gay” or “trans” without acknowledging their other identities—whether they are Black, disabled, working-class, or a woman—reduces them to a single facet of their existence. Instead, we are called to look at the whole person. When we do that, we create space for empathy, respect, and an acknowledgment that everyone’s lived experience is unique and valuable.

A Biblical Call to Wholeness

The message of “Whole Lives Matter” resonates deeply within the Christian tradition. From the beginning of the Bible, we see God creating human beings as whole and complex. Psalm 139 celebrates this, proclaiming, “For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made” (Psalm 139:13-14). These verses remind us that every part of our identity is sacred, lovingly woven together by the hands of God.

Jesus’ ministry also demonstrated this profound respect for the whole person. He didn’t engage with people based on just one aspect of their identity. Whether it was the woman at the well, the tax collector, or the woman caught in adultery, Jesus saw and loved them for their full humanity. He didn’t overlook their struggles or dismiss their complex circumstances but acknowledged their worth in every encounter.

In this way, Christ calls us to reject partial, simplified understandings of one another. We are tasked with seeing our siblings in faith and the broader human community as whole, integrated beings—not merely “gay,” “straight,” “disabled,” or “Black,” but as a synthesis of all those things. And when we recognize the entirety of a person, we can offer them the kind of love and respect that God offers us.

Identity and Assumptions

In today’s fast-paced, judgment-laden world, it’s easy to fall into the trap of labeling people without truly seeing them. We hear someone’s race, their gender identity, or their sexual orientation and, almost automatically, make assumptions about their beliefs, experiences, or behaviors. This tendency not only flattens the rich diversity of the human experience but also shuts down opportunities for genuine connection.

Studies on identity formation indicate that people often struggle with their intersecting identities, especially in environments that force them to prioritize one identity over another. A 2019 study published in The Journal of Social Issues found that LGBTQIA+ individuals from marginalized racial or socioeconomic backgrounds often feel torn between different aspects of their identity, as they try to navigate spaces that don’t fully accept them as a whole person. This highlights the need for communities that embrace the whole person rather than asking them to fragment their identity for social convenience.

When we walk through life assuming we know someone’s story based on a single characteristic, we miss out on the fullness of who they are. We also reinforce societal structures that divide and diminish people, reducing them to just one aspect of their existence. Instead, the call of “Whole Lives Matter” encourages us to move beyond assumptions, to see every person as a reflection of God’s diverse and magnificent creation.

Wrestling with Identity & Faith

It’s important to recognize that many people, especially within marginalized communities, are still wrestling with the complexity of their identities. For some, reconciling the intersections of race, gender, ability, and sexuality is a life-long journey. As a community of faith, we must make space for this wrestling. We need to hold space for people who are figuring out who they are and who God is calling them to be.

In our churches and wider society, we should foster environments where people feel free to explore the complexity of their identities without fear of rejection or ridicule. The intersection of different identities can sometimes feel like a source of tension, but it can also be a source of strength. As LGBTQIA+ people of faith, many of us know what it’s like to navigate the intersection of queerness and religion. It can be challenging, but it can also lead to a deeper, richer understanding of both our faith and our identity.

Moving Forward with Compassion

If we are to take “Whole Lives Matter” seriously, we must begin by listening. We need to listen to the stories of those who have been marginalized by society—whether because of their race, their gender, their socioeconomic status, or any other aspect of their identity. And we need to listen without judgment, without rushing to impose our own understanding of who they are.

In doing so, we build bridges of compassion and empathy. We create communities where people are not only tolerated but celebrated in their wholeness. And we make space for people to continue wrestling with their identities without feeling that they have to fit neatly into preconceived boxes.

In a world that too often divides us, the call of “Whole Lives Matter” is a call to unity—unity through diversity, and wholeness through love. It is a reminder that every person we encounter is a beautiful, complex creation of God, worthy of respect and kindness. And it is an invitation to see, and love, the whole person.

Gus Walz is My Hero

by Rev. Dr. Tom Martinez

In today’s culture war we’re all victims of the age-old idea that manliness is primarily evidenced by controlling and repressing emotions. This was made clear by the reaction to Gus Walz’ open display of emotion during the Democratic National Convention. Images of Gus crying quickly became a lightning rod for the cruelest ridicule. But what are we making fun of? A son’s love of his dad. Is that really deserving of the wave of cruelty it elicited? Or could it be an indication that at the dawn of the 21^st century there is deep confusion as to what it means to be a man?

It’s easy to bully any sign of weakness. That’s why bullying is so rampant. But it’s far more challenging to grasp why such a beautiful moment quickly became weaponized. Yes, it has a lot to do with the radical divide in the country. We’re like sharks in our ability to detect any hint of vulnerability which we then pounce on like so many Great Whites. Biden shows his age or Trump fumbles a question and everyone’s ready to pounce. It’s as if we’re all back in middle school, consumed by fear and the aggression that shields us from our humanity.

The truth is we’re all aging, we all fumble questions or fail to put our best foot forward. We’re imperfect, vulnerable creatures trying to find our way in the world. But attacking each other isn’t the answer. Instead, we need to step back and assess the ways in which our culture has socialized men to hide their feelings. Women would have an easier time of it if more men were to begin to explore their masculinity with a wider range of ideals than the lone ranger mentality offered up by the likes of John Wayne, Clint Eastwood and Charles Bronson.

John Wayne is often demonized for having made such a major contribution to the patriarchal ideal. And while the problem is of course bigger than Wayne, I find it fascinating that when he appeared before a group of Veterans their reaction was to boo him. These were men who had experienced the harsh reality of combat, many of them propelled by the swaggering image of a fearless gunmen out to get the bad guys. They had discovered that war is not glamorous or thrilling, but horrific and wounding.

Therapists like Ed Tick, who work with traumatized Vets, know that the path toward healing involves a dismantling of the macho image of invulnerability. Ed has taken countless groups of Veterans back to Viet Nam, where they have the opportunity to process the trauma of war, and to thereby enlarge their frame of reference by which they understand what happened to them, what they did, what was done to them. He frames this work in the symbolism of the hero’s journey, which begins with the patriarchal foundation of enculturation, then descends into the hell of trauma. This descent is an aspect of heroism that takes us beneath the middle-school mentality of invulnerability and cruelty. It requires a Christ-like willingness to enter the wilderness of the soul, to wrestle with our worst and better angels.

The great developmental psychologist Erik Erikson came to this country to escape Hitler. A brilliant theorist by nature, he plumbed the depths of fascism, asking what in the world made it possible for so many everyday Germans to throw their support behind a sadistic demagogue. How fascinating that his quest to understand what happened in Germany centered on the generational tensions between fathers and sons. He went on to articulate his insights in a book on Martin Luther, who famously struggled with his relationship with his father. Erikson understood that love for the swaggering dictator is rooted in repressed feelings toward authority.

It’s no coincidence that Luther himself ushered in a great revolutionary overthrow of Catholicism, the reigning system of power in his day. One of Erikson’s great insights involves the explosive though latent energy permeating society in times of social upheaval. We certainly are living through such a time. Everything from truth itself, to the mystery of gender to whether or not the planet is warming is all up for grabs.

In the midst of this great upheaval, people long to be free, to have some modicum of power and agency. The temptation is to simply identify a father figure to either worship or oppose. But collective lashing out against the right or left is merely that, a blind lashing out at daddy. The more radical response is to feel one’s way into one’s own power, to figure out why we’re here, what it is that we are meant to do, which is often something far beyond the limited ideologies offered to up by whatever cultural system we’re born into.

This isn’t to say that all enculturation is flawed. We need role models and mentors. We need spaces where we are tested and pushed and allowed to fail and succeed. This is no doubt why sports loom so large in the world. But the star athlete who beats his wife is far too common, as is the epidemic of domestic abuse in general.

Legions of men are trapped in an outdated ideal of toughness and control. Meanwhile advances in the social sciences are opening up the complexity of gender, social roles, questions of equality and the challenges associated with our ever-more complex and technologically daunting world. Again, the temptation is to go back to the Lone Ranger and leave it at that.

But songs like “Billy Don’t Be a Hero” and films like Coming Home, Johnny Got His Gun, The Deerhunter and Born on the Fourth of July all call into question the old ideal of invincibility.

From what I’ve read it appears Gus Walz is somewhere on the neuro-diversity spectrum, meaning he doesn’t process information like more mainstreamed young adults. That alone should be reason for a certain sober restraint when it comes to judging his show of emotion. But rather than merely holding back out of compassion, we can marvel at what this extraordinary young man has to teach us. His response was real and honest and spontaneous, pure embodied love by a son for his dad. Seems to me the world could use a little more young men like Gus.

Rev. Dr. Tom Martinez is the Senior Minister of Desert Palm United Church of Christ in Tempe, AZ.

The Cheering Kept Me Going

by Rev. Lynne Hinton

Katie Ledecky, the great Olympic swimmer was asked what she thought about while swimming the long 1,500 meter race. She explained that she thought of everyone who had helped her make it to the games, help make her the swimmer she is. She thinks of coaches, family members, friends, teachers, and sees them in her mind’s eye as she swims meter after meter. I heard her interview and immediately thought of Hebrews 12 :1 and the reminder that we are “surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses.” Surely, even for those of us who are not Olympic swimmers, we understand the value of having people in our corner, understand that we have made it this far because of the love and support of so many.

I’ve shared this story before but it really is my favorite Olympic story and since we’re enjoying the games this week, and since Katie Ledecky brought this topic to mind, I decided to muse about this past Olympic event again!

Eric “The Swimmer” Moussambani of Equatorial Guinea was an unlikely hero of the Sydney Olympic Games. The 22-year-old African had only learned to swim the January before the scheduled events. He had only practiced in a 20 meter pool without lane markers, and had never raced more than 50 meters. By special invitation of the International Olympic Committee, under a special program that permits poorer countries to participate even though their athletes don’t meet customary standards, he had been entered in the 100 meter men’s freestyle.

When the other two swimmers in his heat were disqualified because of false starts, Moussambani was forced to swim alone. Eric Moussambani was, to use the words of an Associated Press story about his race, “charmingly inept.” He did not put his head under the water’s surface and flailed wildly to stay afloat. With ten meters left to the finish, he virtually came to a stop. Some spectators thought he might drown! Even though his time was clearly over a minute slower than what he would need to qualify for the next level of competition, the capacity crowd at the Olympic Aquatic Center stood to their feet and cheered Eric on. “You can do it!” They shouted. “You got this! Go! GO!” And applause filled the stadium.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, this young African athlete finally reached the wall and hung on for dear life. When he had caught his breath and regained his composure, the French-speaking Moussambani was interviewed about the event. He was asked how he kept going even though it was clear that it was very difficult for him to complete the race. He said through an interpreter, “I want to send hugs and kisses to the crowd. It was their cheering that kept me going.”

May you hear the cheering for you as you go through your trials. May you remember the love and support of your cloud of witnesses and may you always know the words of the poet Hafiz: “I wish that I could show you when you are lonely or in darkness the astonishing light of your own being.”

The Wisdom of “Praise Allah and Tie Your Camel to the Post”

by Christopher Schouten

I learned a phrase long ago in my spiritual education from the deep well of Sufi wisdom: “Praise Allah and tie your camel to the post.” This phrase offers profound insight into the balance between faith and personal responsibility. On the surface, it appears to be a simple proverb, but its deeper meaning touches on the core of how we live our spiritual and practical lives. We are both divine AND a we are fundamentally a biological, physical reality. As I reflect on this phrase, I find it speaks volumes to me about the interplay between trust in the divine and our own responsibilities in the world, and the partnership we must create between Creator and created in order to not only live up to our own full potential, but also to create the Kin-dom of God on Earth.

The Balance of Faith and Responsibility

At its heart, this saying emphasizes the importance of combining faith with action. “Praise Allah” signifies the need for spiritual devotion and trust in a higher power. It reminds us to acknowledge and revere the divine presence in our lives, to give thanks for the guidance of the Holy Spirit and the blessings we receive. This aspect of the phrase encourages us to cultivate a relationship with the divine, to recognize the divity within all of creation, and to surrender our worries and trust that we are cared for by a loving and omnipotent presence.

However, the second part, “tie your camel to the post,” brings in the crucial element of personal responsibility. It underscores that faith alone is not enough; we must also take practical steps to ensure our well-being and the well-being of those we care for. It suggests that while we trust in the divine, we are also expected to use our wisdom, skills, and resources to take care of our duties and responsibilities. This balance prevents us from falling into the trap of passivity or fatalism, where we might otherwise expect things to happen without our active participation.

Practical Application in Daily Life

In our modern context, this wisdom can be applied in numerous ways. For instance, in our professional lives, it means that while we may trust in our abilities and the opportunities that come our way, we must also put in the necessary work and preparation to succeed. We can pray for guidance and support, but we must also draft the proposals, attend the meetings, and refine our skills.

In personal relationships, it means that while we may trust that love and harmony will prevail, we must also engage in open communication, show empathy, and put in the effort to nurture and maintain these bonds. Trust in the goodness of our relationships must be paired with the active work of caring for them.

In terms of personal health and well-being, it suggests that while we might have faith in our body’s ability to heal and thrive, we must also engage in healthy habits, seek medical advice when necessary, and take steps to care for our physical and mental health.

Contrasting with Evangelical Theology: Letting Go vs. Active Participation

Contrasting this with certain strands of evangelical theology, we see a marked difference in the approach to divine intervention and personal responsibility. Phrases like “letting go and letting God” and “Jesus take the wheel” often emphasize a more passive reliance on divine action, suggesting that believers should surrender control entirely and trust that God will handle their challenges. While this perspective can provide comfort and peace, it sometimes leads individuals to abdicate their personal accountability and responsibility. In this framework, there is a tendency to wait for divine intervention rather than actively engaging in problem-solving or taking proactive steps. “Praise Allah and tie your camel to the post” offers a counterbalance, advocating for a partnership between divine trust and human effort. It encourages believers to see themselves as co-creators with God, recognizing that while divine support is essential, their own actions and decisions are equally vital in shaping their lives. This integrated approach fosters a more dynamic and participatory spirituality, where faith and action are seen as complementary forces working together to bring about positive outcomes.

Understanding God’s Plan: Biblical Underpinnings

Determining God’s plan for our lives is a complex and deeply personal journey that involves prayer, reflection, and seeking wisdom from sacred texts. This Sufi philosophy also resonates with many biblical principles, suggesting a harmonious blend of faith and action that can indeed be seen as part of God’s plan for us.

Biblical Underpinnings

Faith and Works: The Bible consistently emphasizes the importance of both faith and works. In James 2:14-17, we read, “What good is it, my brothers and sisters, if someone claims to have faith but has no deeds? Can such faith save them? … In the same way, faith by itself, if it is not accompanied by action, is dead.” This passage highlights that true faith is demonstrated through our actions, aligning well with the Sufi emphasis on trusting in God while also taking practical steps.
Responsibility and Stewardship: The parable of the talents (Matthew 25:14-30) teaches about the responsibility of using our gifts and resources wisely. The servants who actively invested their talents were praised, while the one who hid his talent was reprimanded. This parable underscores the idea that we are expected to be proactive and responsible stewards of what God has given us.
Partnership with God: In Philippians 2:12-13, Paul writes, “Therefore, my dear friends, as you have always obeyed—not only in my presence but now much more in my absence—continue to work out your salvation with fear and trembling, for it is God who works in you to will and to act in order to fulfill God’s good purpose.” This passage reflects the dual aspect of human effort and divine guidance, suggesting that we are co-creators with God in our spiritual journey.

God’s Plan in Daily Life

Recognizing that God’s plan involves both our trust in God and our active participation can bring clarity and purpose to our daily lives. The Sufi wisdom does not contradict biblical teachings but rather complements them by emphasizing that our faith in God should inspire us to take responsible actions. By praising God and tying our camel to the post, we acknowledge that while we trust in God’s provision and guidance, we also play a crucial role in manifesting God’s plan through our efforts.

In practice, this means seeking God’s will through prayer, studying scripture for guidance, and using our God-given abilities to act responsibly and diligently in our circumstances. By doing so, we honor both the divine and our own human agency, living out a faith that is both trusting and proactive. This integrated approach can help us navigate life’s challenges with confidence, knowing that we are working in partnership with a loving and guiding God.

The Stories We Tell About Mental Health

by Kathryn Andrews, a member of Desert Palm UCC’s W.I.S.E. Committee and Southwest Conference COM A. This is a book review for Disability Pride Month.

Psychiatrists have no definitive explanation for why some of their patients rebound from mental illness while others have an illness “career.” In Strangers to Ourselves: Unsettled Minds and the Stories that Make Us, Rachel Aviv looks beyond neurology and family dynamics. Instead, she asks whether diagnosis and story framing have a role to play in outcomes. Professionals convey a story on an individual level by naming, diagnosing, and providing a prognosis to the patient or the patient’s family. On a macro level, society conveys its own stories about mental health through cultural attitudes or societal stigma.

The author cites herself as an example of the power of framing and story. At age six, Aviv became the youngest known patient with anorexia nervosa, a disorder characterized by extreme calorie restriction. She spent six weeks in a hospital receiving counseling and food. Doctors conveyed the risks of her condition and prognosis to her parents, but did not share details with Aviv herself. It was not until she reached middle school — when friends began experimenting with anorexia — that Aviv began to understand the meaning of the diagnosis. Aviv attributes her emergence from anorexia in part to her ignorance of the societal ideal of thinness. More importantly, at age six Aviv never received the language describing anorexia and never incorporated it into her understanding of herself.

Aviv broadens the narrative to include stories of several others in the “psychic hinterlands” and the impact of environment and ethnic and cultural narratives on their lives. For example, she introduces us to Bapu, a woman from Kerala, India. Western psychiatrists diagnose Bapu with schizophrenia, and her upper-class family abandons her. Upon relocating to another town, Bapu begins to live on the streets. The people she meets there revere her as a saint and request her prayers. Interestingly, a World Health Organization study conducted over three decades found people more likely to “recover” from schizophrenia in developing nations than in developed ones, with some of the best outcomes in India.

In the United States, social norms also have a role to play in outcomes, including the likelihood of self-harm. Based upon 100-year averages, the suicide rate among African Americans is roughly half that of Caucasian Americans. Although the suicide rate for African Americans has risen in recent years, sociologist Kevin Early explains that the black community views suicide as “almost a complete denial of black identity and culture” as it is at odds with enduring.

The author acknowledges that a diagnosis can bring relief to a patient and family bewildered by symptoms’ onset. Aviv writes, by “creating a shared language, contemporary psychiatry can alleviate people’s loneliness, but we may take for granted the impact of its explanations, which are not neutral: they alter the kinds of stories about the self” and “how we understand our potential.” These stories “bear heavily on a person’s sense of self” and desire for treatment. In gathering patients’ stories, Aviv is struck by how easily her life might have taken another direction.

While I do not doubt the effect of story Aviv outlines, limiting information to an adult patient seems paternalistic. Perhaps the diagnosing professional should equip the patient with the diagnosis and treatment options while deferring any prediction about the future. Pat Deegan, a psychologist and schizophrenia patient, agrees that some phases of “recovery” entail the patient’s participation in “planning and work” but rejects the notion that every aspect “can be consciously orchestrated.” Hope remains the wild card, a phenomenon for which psychiatry, psychology, social work, and science cannot account. According to Deegan: “But those of us who have recovered know that this grace is real.”

Pastoral Letter Regarding Christian Nationalism

by Rev. Ken Heintzelman, Senior Minister, Shadow Rock UCC

Dear Friends and Members of Shadow Rock,

It is my tendency to project where I am emotionally onto others. I think this is a human tendency that can be held in check sometimes by empathy, honesty, and objectivity. I can observe what I am feeling, know that it is my feeling, and intellectually check myself with the idea that not everyone is feeling and thinking the same way. Knowing this helps me make space in myself to hear and empathize with other people who are at different places emotionally. All of this is to say that I am feeling some despair over recent history and political events. I do not want to assume everyone is where I am. I want to be the pastor that will be present for all the people even when we may disagree on politics. The deep human needs produced by fear and grief require companionship and transcends politics and my own personal feelings.

What are you feeling? What are you thinking? How are you understanding the whirlwind of political events? Can I offer a progressive faith perspective that may be helpful to some without alienating others? I hope so.

For some, spirituality is a personal and private journey, Church is a place of refuge and is not to be tainted by the ugly events of history. Bringing politics into the worship service is to wreck the sacred time and space, and disturb the peace. I embrace a part of this as my needs sometimes draw me into retreating from the larger picture of life. I retreat from the larger picture of unfolding history to the deeper places of quiet that my soul needs. “Like a deer pants for the water brooks, so my soul pants for you, O God. (Psalm 42:1) Some events, and bringing those events into our shared sacred space, feels like we are polluting the water that promises to refresh us.

In the event of the attempted assassination of Donald Trump we wonder again what kind of society we have become. In the chaos we seek solace and order in the inner world of our spirits. We may fall back and into the promises of a loving and faithful God. The attributes of God and the events of the world do not match up so we retreat in the attributes and promises of God and away from the events of the world.

For me, as a person with a progressive expression of Christian faith, I have the personal spiritual experience and all the feelings that go with it. However, I can not cut myself off from wondering, seeing, and hoping about God’s higher purposes working through the larger picture of history. This is the rub. There may be several different ways for people to interpret God’s working through the larger picture of history. The idea that God is actively involved with history is part of our Covenant but I think we struggle with knowing what it means, sharing a unified understanding, and embracing it.

For example, look at the different interpretations of the failed assassination attempt of Donald Trump.

Donald Trump survived the assassination attempt because the assassin failed.
Donald Trump survived the assassination attempt because God intervened somehow.
Donald Trump survived the assassination attempt because God intervened somehow, and such intervention is proof of his rightness for America..
Donald Trump survived the assassination attempt because such is the randomness of life. No rhyme, no reason, no meaning.
Donald Trump survived the assassination attempt because such is the randomness of life, yet God’s love, peace, and justice will be the last word in history.

There are probably more ways to interpret the event but I want to focus on # 3 and # 5. Number 3 represents Christian nationalism and number 5 represents a progressive Christian interpretation. First let us look at # 3 and Christian nationalism.

What is Christian nationalism?

The Freedom Forum shares the following as it tries to answer the question.

There is no clean and tidy definition of Christian nationalism since it is not a formal religious denomination or sect with a stated doctrine of beliefs; nor is there any single person or council leading Christian nationalism that oversees followers.

Generally, religious scholars, sociologists and others who study Christian nationalism describe it as a belief that the United States is a country defined by Christianity. In practice, this means:

The government should take steps to keep the country’s Christian roots and identity intact.
The government should advocate Christian values and pass laws and enact policies that reflect those values.
The separation of church and state is not a formal law that should be followed.
God’s plan is for the U.S. to be a successful nation based in Christian ideals.

If you are a person in the camp of Christian nationalism then it is an easy step to believe Donald Trump survived the assassination attempt because God intervened somehow, and such intervention is proof of his rightness for America. Is Christian nationalism a legitimate political and religious ideology? They certainly would say it is and many would go so far to say it is the only legitimate political and religious ideology. For the moment let it stand as is but let us outline how a progressive Christian might understand the same event.

My progressive faith steers me to think Donald Trump survived the assassination attempt because such is the randomness of life. The bullet misses Trump but takes the life of Corey Comperatore. My progressive faith steers me to think such is the randomness of life. I am not feeling complacent in a “que sera sera” attitude. I stand in awe of the randomness of life and grieve with the family who lost a husband and father. When we try to over-simplify or over-explain the fairness or unfairness of suffering we find our answers to be inadequate, especially to those who are grieving. Rather than provide answers it is better to offer comfort, presence, and suffer with people. A progressive Christian perspective leaves me with questions and forces me into a decision. Do I rage at the way life is or do I trust the way life is with all of its horrors and beauties? I choose trust and I encourage you to do so as well.

A Christian nationalism perspective depends on bad theology, bad history, and an unholy wedding of religion and politics. In Christian nationalism religion and politics do whatever they need to do to justify each other. In a progressive Christian faith, religion and politics are in a creative tension holding each other accountable to humanity’s greatest ideals.

This pastoral letter has nothing to do with who you support in the presidential race. It only offers competing perspectives on one historical event. I hope it helps people to understand how there can be such disparate views of the same event, and in turn equip you with clarity that can help you cope, heal, and hope.

I want to end where I began. I am my own person with my own political and religious views and I am your pastor. At the point when you are hurting, grieving, or dying, I do not care what political sign you have in your yard or who you vote for. In that moment I only want to assure you that you are not alone, you do not need to be afraid, and you are loved. This is my greatest sacred privilege and responsibility.

Peace!

Pastor Ken