Category: church

Contemplative Practice in UCC: Becoming Still to Encounter the Still-Speaking God

by Rev. Teresa Blythe

The denomination I am ordained in–United Church of Christ—has a catchphrase “God is still speaking,” which means God continues, throughout all of time, to reveal Godself to us, just as God did to the people of Israel in the ancient near east and in the time of Jesus.

For a long time, the motto was mostly used to counter those brands of Christianity that tried to say the Bible is the inerrant and infallible word of God and it is all we need to know from God and about God. And, because we don’t take everything in scripture as the last word, my denomination is known for its social justice “firsts.” [i]

The UCC’s social action bona fides are not in question. However, our commitment to contemplative spiritual practices has not been as robust. Which is why this week’s news that delegates of the UCC’s General Synod (our big convention that occurs every 2 years) approved a resolution calling on the wider church to base its activism on a life of foundational spiritual practices.

Spiritual directors and spiritual formation teachers in the UCC are ecstatic. We’ve been talking about this for a long time! One part of the resolution reads, “Contemplation without action fuels narcissism, and action without contemplation is a recipe for bitterness and spiritual depletion.” The resolution asks churches to follow the example of Jesus and provide times of silence, meditation and solitude to foster “intimate relationship with God.”

The resolution was brought forward by two young UCC leaders—Rev. Matt Carriker and Denson Staples, a member in discernment, both from the Southern New England Conference. Carriker told delegates about a conversation he had with a woman who had tried to bring an awareness of contemplative practice into the life of her church, but found people resisted for one reason for another. Carriker asked, “How can our churches live out both the contemplative and activist dimensions of our faith?”

The resolution is already creating ripples of interest. This past Sunday, the pastor at First UCC Phoenix, Rev. Susan Valiquette opened her sermon with the news of the resolution and encouraged the congregation to balance its activist work with a look inward, suggesting that members consider prayer, meditation, chanting, fasting, tithing, meditative reading of scripture and…..spiritual direction.

To embrace that “God is still speaking” is to also ask the question “How are we listening and responding?” Before we can adequately respond, we need to carefully listen and discern what what work this Still-Speaking God is inviting each of us to.

Rev. Teresa Blythe is a spiritual director, educator and author based in Phoenix. To learn more about spiritual direction, visit her website at www.teresablythe.net.

[1] First act of civil disobedience in the colonies—a protest against an unjust tax on tea; first ordained African American pastor by a Protestant denomination—Lemuel Haynes in 1785; first integrated anti-slavery society in 1846 when Lewis Tappan of the Amistad movement organized the American Missionary Association; first woman pastor in 1853—Antoinette Brown; ordination of the first openly gay minister, Rev. William R. Johnson, in 1972; and the first Christian denomination to support gay marriage on July 4, 2005.

My First Tattoo

by Rev. Deb Worley

“…at this sound the crowd gathered and was bewildered,
because each one heard them speaking
in the native language of each.
Amazed and astonished, they asked, ‘
Are not all these who are speaking Galileans?
And how is it that…in our own languages
we hear them speaking about God’s deeds of power?’”
(Selected verses from Acts 2, NRSV)

“You’re the coolest minister I’ve ever met.” 
 

So said the tattoo artist who gave me my first ever tattoo, just a few weeks ago, at Talisman BodyArt in Santa Fe. To honor the struggle she and we have been through in the past eighteen months, and the progress she has made, and the commitment we both have to her full recovery, Sarah had invited me to join her in getting a tattoo that she had designed, based on the logo for NEDA, the National Eating Disorders Association. 

In spite of my very real fear that the pain would be excruciating and I would not be able to keep myself from screaming, sobbing, passing out, or otherwise completely embarrassing myself, I took a deep breath and agreed. Truth be told, I felt honored by her invitation. And besides, on the verge of turning the ripe old age of 52, I decided it was high time I got my first tattoo! 

I went first—knowing that if I watched Sarah get hers, I might very well bolt, never to return again, and I really did want to do this. Jordan, the tattoo artist, was a lovely young woman who, as it turned out, had grown up in Los Alamos. She had been doing tattoos for several years and, when she found out she would be giving me my first one, quickly and graciously put me at ease.  

When she was ready to start the actual tattooing, she told me she would do one small section and then check in with me to see how I was doing. I had, of course, shared my fear and dread with her! I told her I was ready, and looked away, looking instead at Sarah, who was sitting on the other side of me. She smiled at me, and I smiled back, putting on a brave face and bracing myself for the pain. And then Jordan began. 

I waited for a moment as the tattoo pen she was using whirred…and then I said, “That’s it??” And she smiled and said, “Yep.” And I, with a mixture of pride and profound relief, exclaimed, “I’ve had three babies with no anesthesia! This is nothing!” Phew….

As she worked, Jordan chatted with Sarah and me, cheerfully answering the questions I asked her about growing up in Los Alamos, about other art she enjoys, about her work, etc. At one point, when there was a lull in the conversation, she asked me, “So what do you do?” 

I looked at Sarah, and we both laughed. And I looked back at Jordan and said, “I’m a pastor.” 

Jordan: “Really?!?!?” 

Me: “Really.” 

Jordan: “Wow! That’s cool!”

Sarah: “Have you ever tattooed a minister before?”

Jordan: “I’m pretty sure I have not! But that’s so cool! I’ll be able to brag to my friends about this!” Pause… “You’re definitely the coolest minister I’ve ever met.” 

By the time we left, Sarah and I had these deeply meaningful tattoos: 

And a very memorable shared experience. And I think that Jordan will remember it, too. I can’t say for sure, but I hope she remembers it as a time when a minister-mom broke some stereotypes, leaving judgment at the door and offering acceptance instead, stepping away from condemnation and stepping into her world with curiosity, extending kindness and respect along with my arm. And I hope that maybe, through our interactions, Jordan was able to hear something about the goodness of God in a language she could understand…. 

In what ways do those we encounter who are not part of the “church-going club” hear us speaking about God? Do we speak in “languages” they can understand? 

God, help us… Amen.

Peace, and the power of translation, be with us all.
Deb

Reflections on Orientation-Disorientation-Reorientation (from an Exempt Minister)

by Rev. Jim Fredette

In his sermon Sunday on April 11th, Pastor Adam Hamilton noted that Walter Brueggemann once wrote that Israel had three circular phases in its life: Orientation, Disorientation, and Reorientation. As I listened to the sermon it struck me how closely the same pattern has been in my life.

Throughout my ministry in Massachusetts, New Hampshire, Syracuse, NY., El Paso, TX, Escondido, CA., and Sun City I experienced all three phases. For the most part “Orientation” was my foremost and fulfilling experience. Doing a new church start at Desert View in El Paso was a wild ride between all three phases. My other congregations were far easier and very fulfilling.

When I retired from United Church in Sun City, I wanted to do the “right thing” in ministry. I asked John Dorhauer to lead a service of release of my call to United Church. Nancy and I did not attend or barely drive by the property for more than two years. I was asked by the search committee to meet with Brady, and I assured him of my support and I hope I didn’t do anything that wasn’t supportive.

Nancy and I enjoyed worshiping at the First Congregational Church in Phoenix. We thoroughly enjoyed Steve Wayle’s ministry and the church’s involvement in the community. We probably would have joined the church, but it was 25 miles from us and Steve retired.

We eventually signed a three-way covenant with United Church, the Conference and me defining my “role.” We attended several months, and we felt Pastor Brady was supportive. But we finally decided, we needed to move on. We eventually joined Church of the Palms, and two years ago decided to relocate to southeast Kansas to be near family.

All of this information (I hope I’ve not bored you to death) leads to my viewpoint of being a retired/exempt pastor. I sought exemption status; we were moving to southeast Kansas and attending boundary training and other meetings was not financially or physically possible.

From my experience (which may be uniquely mine) retirement in some ways is a period of disorientation. In my case I found it very difficult to find a role wherein I could still be involved and of some service and yet not intrusive. The Church of the Palms was very welcoming and if we had stayed in Sun City, I probably would have found some role.

What I don’t feel the denomination has really addressed is pathway for some of us to feel we still matter or that our ordination means anything anymore. I don’t want to preach or lead worship. But I also think in some ways exempt status and ordination are almost a contradiction in terms.

Some exempt pastors may find their new status isn’t an issue. I am not exactly sure what the denomination might or could do for some retired clergy. Some retirees may find a new church home and feel “orientated.” Some of us may need more pastoral care and help in finding our footing. In any case I thought maybe my experience might be something that would provide you food for thought.

Inclining our Ear Toward God: Listening As A Church

by Rev. Teresa Blythe

In a world full of solutions, opinions, and advice, listening is one of the most important gifts we can offer one another. It is an act of healing and vision. For people of faith and their communities, the gift of listening both to one another and God offers a path to spiritual renewal and grants congregations a vision of their identity. In a time when congregations are experiencing a steep decline in membership and facing significant uncertainty, learning to listen deeply to one another and seeking through listening to discern God’s path for a faith community’s future just might be one of the most important acts a church can engage in.

Rev. Chad Abbott and I minister in a denomination (UCC) that believes “God is still speaking.” The phrase expresses the reality that God is much more mysterious and far-reaching than we can understand. While the Bible continues to serve as the primary source of revelation for Christians, God is still being revealed to us in this world, in a culture the ancient world could not have imagined.

Sadly, it is evident to us as leaders in the Mainline American church that many Christians do not know how to listen for God, despite their deep longing to connect with a God who still speaks. Just as individual Christians struggle to listen for God, faith communities labor to listen for God together. Many are not able to slow down and approach church life in a reflective, contemplative manner.

Chad and I have written “Incline Your Ear: Cultivating Spiritual Awakening in Congregations” (Fortress Press, 2021) to encourage spiritual growth and vitality in faith communities in this listening pursuit. Throughout our book we share spiritual practices designed to help your congregation “incline its ear” toward God. Notice we used the singular “ear.” We believe congregations need to understand themselves as unified — one body, rather than a collection of individuals. As we are both spiritual directors, we explain the principles and practices of contemporary spiritual direction so that congregations can understand and use them. We even outline a “Congregational Spiritual Road Map” at the end of each chapter with step-by-step instructions for leading spiritual practices in awareness of God, reflection on the congregation’s life together, discernment, and creating an action plan to move forward on what is discerned.

With each important decision we make, with every relationship we build, with every church mission statement or ministry we design, and in matters of vocation and prophetic witness, the skills of discernment and listening in the spiritual life will make for vital congregations. While we face declining membership and generational shifts in loyalty to the church, it is clear to us that it is both a challenging, and exciting time to be the church. We have the opportunity to imagine a new future as we listen for God’s leading. All the spiritual resources we need to become that newly-imagined and future church is already within and around us if we will but incline our ear to the work of the Spirit.

We believe this work is so important. The world outside church doors will not wait around for clergy to figure out how to connect contemplative life at home with congregational life at church, so naturally the spiritually curious turn to yoga studios, meditation mats, healing stones, and spirituality apps — and who can blame them? Yet, the church has a deep and abiding tradition of spiritual practices that can help spiritual pilgrims in our time get to the heart of their yearning. In particular, the work of spiritual direction has the potential to not only enhance spiritual vitality in the church, but to push us toward congregational vitality that helps churches more fully live out their mission in the world in a time when a vibrant church is desperately needed.

Rev. Teresa Blythe is the director of the Phoenix Center for Spiritual Direction at First UCC Phoenix. Rev. Chad Abbott is Conference Minister for the Indiana-Kentucky Conference of the UCC.

What Does It Mean to be Transgender in the UCC?

by Hailey Lyons

I never imagined I’d be here today. I mean that in the sense that I’m alive, and also a member of a local church. I certainly didn’t set out on my faith journey expecting to end up here, and I’m sure I won’t be able to predict where that journey takes me in the future, either.

My upbringing wasn’t particularly unique; there were thousands of Southern Baptist pastors’ kids running around America playing sports and teaching youth groups at the time, and I’m sure that’s still the case today. The brand of masculinity thrown at me by my parents was also pretty generic: “be tough and lead.” I got the tough part down by playing multiple sports and settling down on football by the time I got to high school. The leadership part wasn’t as obvious – I sincerely doubt I would’ve been allowed to preach Sunday sermons at our church as a child. And yet there I was, teaching youth classes and subbing in for the occasional adult group. When Dad moved to a different slide of his hour-long – if we were lucky – sermon I was the one to click to it in PowerPoint. When my older brother led us in worship, I made sure his guitar didn’t sound too pitchy and that his vocals were turned up.

I’d say I had a solid relationship with God: I had an active prayer life, did multiple run-throughs of the Bible a year, and regularly read through a bookshelf filled with works of apologists like Lee Strobel, Ken Ham, and Rick Warren. And yet I had the nagging feeling I was missing something.

And because I didn’t have the language, much less the understanding to express what was missing, I blamed my discomfort on sinfulness. I labeled myself as prideful and mysteriously afflicted by the struggle of theologically wrestling with God. Why not? This was the attitude taken by all the preachers I knew. It was easy to excuse a lack of certainty – or too much of it – on some kind of internal struggle with pride and trying to figure out God’s will.

As a college student, my eyes were opened to the myriad experiences of humanity all around me. Arizona State University’s Tempe campus is – outside of COVID-19 season – a vibrantly diverse world unto itself.

It wasn’t long before I found that a good portion of my friends were members of the LGBT community, some more open than others. Some more religious than others too, and that really bothered me. Why did my Calvinist, Evangelical faith demand I view everyone as totally and indelibly depraved and unable to do any good outside the direct divine intervention of God Almighty? Why was it that the doctrine of predestination meant God wasn’t going to let some people go to heaven?

Layers and layers peeled back slowly and painfully. It took 3 years of deep questioning, pretending to be someone I wasn’t, and listening to the experiences of people around me. As a college ministry leader and youth teacher, half of my life was devoted to being on the church campus and “doing life” with other members. We were all trying our best to “work through our own salvation,” and the theological methodology was irrevocably tainted with shame and suffering.

Knowing what the consequences would be – largely because I’d gotten to know leadership’s orientation toward the LGBT community firsthand – I left my home church. It hurt worse than anything I’d ever experienced, and I felt like I’d wasted those 3 years. I didn’t want to lose the friends I’d made, or the community I’d helped build, or that indescribable feeling I used to get, arriving late to service and hearing 200 voices lifted up in corporate worship.

But the fact is that I didn’t waste that time. And while I lost friends, community, and a particular liturgy, I found something that made it all worth it: myself.

When I walked through the doors at Desert Palm UCC in Tempe, Arizona, my first impression was absolute shock. My former church had made a point of approaching newcomers, but the sheer amount of open love that I felt from everyone was mind-blowing.

It also helped doing research prior to even driving into the parking lot. When one looks up open and affirming churches or, as I did, look through a network like Gay Church, there are a lot of options that pop up around Tempe. Most are denominationally affiliated, with a few outliers that either unequivocally support the LGBT community in their faith statement or keep it intentionally vague.

A few things struck me immediately after looking into the UCC:

  • A clearly labeled, congregational polity
  • Engaged in Social Justice initiatives since its foundation
  • A comprehensive, Open and Affirming message without loopholes

And yet, even knowing this didn’t prepare me for the warm welcome I received.

In the weeks that turned into months of attending Desert Palm, I found people who respect my pronouns without question. People who were genuinely curious about my faith journey without asking me to conform my theology to some incredibly narrow faith statement.

So, what does it mean to be transgender in the UCC?

It starts with a warm welcome.

Since coming to Desert Palm, I’ve had the privilege to work on our new college and young adult ministry aimed at bringing the UCC’s message of radical love and commitment to social justice to Arizona State University by engaging with students in a way that doesn’t demand conversion or attendance at weekly propaganda meetings disguised as bible studies. We’re here to engage a diverse community with extravagant welcome that enables today’s youth to explore their faith journeys without fear.

Being transgender in the UCC is a blessing of welcome and safety, and an opportunity to further a Just World for All.

To the Rescue

by Victoria S. Ubben

In 2008, cancer crept into our family when no one was looking.  Our family was thrown into a bit of a turmoil until we could find a way out of a very dark place.  After some treatment and some healing, our youngest son (only age 10 at the time) wanted to raise money to help find a “cure” for lymphoma (and other blood cancers). The Scenic Shore 150 is one of Wisconsin’s most popular bike rides and is the largest locally organized and supported event for the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society. The sandy shoreline of Lake Michigan is the gorgeous setting for a weekend of riding in support of a cure for blood cancer.

I was serving on the pastoral team of a congregation in Valparaiso, IN, and we had enough interest in our congregation to build a bicycling team to help raise money to find a cure.  Our team committed to ride bicycles in July, 2008, in the Scenic Shore 150, a two-day 150-mile cycling event. 

Our church bicycling team was named the “Still Speaking Cycling Team,” as this was the moment in time when the national United Church of Christ had launched a re-branding and marketing campaign called, “God is Still Speaking.”  Intensive training began for our team and we all set out to raise money for every mile that our team would ride in Wisconsin. 

On Saturday: our team would pedal 75 miles north from Mequon to Manitowac and then spend the night in Manitowac. On Sunday: our team would pedal the final 75 miles toward Door Country, ending in Sturgeon Bay.  My job in Wisconsin was to drive our van the 150 miles to pick up tired, overheated, or sick bicyclists who could no longer “Still Cycle” along the route.  I became lost driving the van.

July 19-20, 2008, was probably the most humid and the steamiest Wisconsin summer of the century.  When one of our bicyclists called me on my cell phone and asked me to come back and pick up one tired, tuckered out bicyclist on our team, I asked “Where are you?”  I was given a location.  This was in 2008, before G.P.S. was commonplace.  I was given an address – an intersection of two streets in some small town on the shore of Lake Michigan.  All I had was an intersection and a hand-drawn map of the bicycle route.

“Okay.  Stay there.  I shall turn this van around and come to the rescue!”  I tried to re-trace the miles that I had driven.  Going by memory, I tried to back-track to find our cyclist (sporting the distinctive black and red jersey with the “Still Speaking” comma logo on the front of it) at some random intersection of two streets in some town in Wisconsin.

But I became hopelessly lost somewhere out in the cornfields.  It dawned on me that these lush, green cornfields seemed quite far away from the “scenic shore” of the blue water of Lake Michigan. I had directions and a map.  Why was it that I could not find our tuckered-out team? 

I did not save the day that day.  Some other support vehicle, authorized by the Scenic Shore 150 event, picked up our disabled bicyclist and transported him to safety.  It was not until that evening as we were recovering with other bicyclists that we came to understand what had happened.  All of this occurred on DAY ONE of our journey and I was looking at the map for DAY TWO.  There is no way that I could ever find our disabled bicyclist because I was using the wrong map.

During this Covid-19 pandemic, we may very well feel lost.  Beyond FEELING lost, perhaps some of us really ARE lost.  Where are we?  Where are we going?  Can we ever find our way through this darkness?  Who will come to rescue us?  Do we have a team support vehicle?  What if our support vehicle cannot find us in this strange and foreign place?

The comfort of the Christian tradition is that God always knows where we are.  God never needs a map to find us.  God is always on the right page.  There is one who is coming to save us, pick us up, and bring us home. 

What Will the Church DO About the Lynchings?

“You can lynch a people by more than just hanging them on a tree. How long will this terror last?!” Dr. James Cone, 2013, Vanderbilt University

Dear white Christians,

Every Black life matters. That is not a cliché, hashtag, or a movement moniker. That is a Divinely pronounced, immutable, moral truth. Despite this Truth, three black people – Ahmad Aubrey in Georgia, Breonna Taylor in Kentucky, George Floyd in Minnesota – three children of God, three of our human siblings, three of our neighbors, three beloved family members – were lynched in America in as many months. Each of their lives mattered. And God is inviting us to remember the Divine Words in Genesis. “What have you done?! Listen! your brothers’ and sister’s blood cries out to me from the land.” (Gen. 4:10)

To say that the murders of Ahmad Aubrey, Breonna Taylor, and George Floyd, happened because they were Black is to blame the victims. Mr. Aubrey, Ms. Taylor, and Mr. Floyd were lynched because their killers were racists. The initial non-response to Mr. Aubrey’s murder happened because the prosecutors’ decisions were rooted in racism. Bystanders realized the police were killing Mr. Floyd and begged the officers to stop using lethal force; officers refused because they were racists. When I ask prayerfully, “Would what happened to Ahmad Aubrey, Breonna Taylor, and George Floyd have been different if these beloved children of God had been white?” the answer is, “Yes!” But their Blackness was not to blame. Their deaths are the fruit of white privilege left unchallenged, racism gone viral, and white supremacy running rampant and glorified on our airwaves and in our streets. Racist white people are to blame. Racist white people lynched them! “What have you done?! Listen! your brothers’ and sisters’ blood cries out to me from the land.”

The assault against Black bodies on our streets is personal. It was personal for Ahmad Aubrey and his family. It was personal for Breonna Taylor and her family. It was personal for George Floyd and his family. What has happened to them and to their families is personal for everyone in America who is not white. I want to say something to the Church without becoming too personal for me or for you. But that is not possible.

Dismantling racism is personal work. Racism will only be dismantled when each of us personally dismantles our own racism. An honest moral inventory of myself specifically and of white people generally tells me that white people do not interact with Black people the same way they interact with white people. White people feel a different set of feelings when we interact with Black people than we feel when we interact with white people. White culture believes and perpetuates stereotypes and untruths about Black culture in order to sustain our white privilege. That is why just this week a Central Park dog-walker, Amy Cooper, who is white, called the police and reported her life was being threatened when a birdwatcher, Christian Cooper, who is Black, asked her to comply with posted rules and put her dog on a leash. Sometimes we don’t realize what we are doing and that is the crux of the problem. Sometimes we do.

My integrity compels me to admit that I am a racist. I was taught racial biases, not always tacitly. I have willingly learned and practiced these patterns of behavior because that is what white people expect of other white people, and because ‘our systems’ reward racism. My whiteness has become unmanageable in that I am addicted to my privilege. I do not want to be a racist. Yet, I commit racism every time I interact with or feel or believe differently about someone who is not white, or when I act to preserve my privilege. While I am working to be more aware of and to overcome my privilege and my racism, that does not mean I am not racist. That means when I succeed, I am a racist in recovery. Until white people confess and change what is happening inside of ourselves, Black people will continue to bear our sins in their bodies. “What have you done?! Listen! your brothers’ and sisters’ blood cries out to me from the land.”

Let us agree to make no more assumptions that because we are progressive Christians, we are not racists. Let us put as much work into dismantling our own individual racism as we have put into our collective statements of solidarity with communities of color, protests, expressions of outrage, and social media posts. Let us agree as clergy and lay leaders, members together of the Southwest Conference of the United Church of Christ, we will intentionally and overtly act to dismantle racism in all of our ministry settings and in the systems in which we live socially, economically, legally, and politically. Let us agree to educate ourselves about Black history, read books by Black authors, quote Black teachers and theologians, and elect Black leaders. Let us agree to call out racism from our pulpits and in our pulpits, from our seats and in our seats at board and committee meetings, our private conversations, our decision making, our interpretation of Scripture, our classes and workshops. Let us agree to give one another permission to hold each other accountable when we miss the opportunity to hold ourselves accountable for racist and privileged behavior.

The Lord said to Cain, “Why are you angry, and why has your countenance fallen? 7 If you do well, will you not be accepted? And if you do not do well, sin is lurking at the door; its desire is for you, but you must master it.” (Genesis 4:6-7) What world becomes possible when we, white Christians, live into that kind of covenant with one another? I hope a world without lynchings, where no person dies because of the color of their skin, a world from which “the blood of our neighbors” no longer cries out against us, a just world for all.

Rev. Dr. William M. Lyons, Conference Minister
Southwest Conference of the United Church of Christ

Why I Became a Spiritual Director

by Teresa Blythe

The practice of spiritual direction rescued me. I never felt I fit into the conservative church I grew up in, so I set out as a young adult to find a spiritual path that focused on God’s unconditional love of creation.

The journey took considerable time. My new path had little to do with the institutional church. I didn’t discover it in worship, bible studies, social justice activism or through the adoption of a new theology. I found it by way of a Presbyterian minister who was in training to be a spiritual director. From the very moment I entered spiritual direction, I knew I wanted to be exploring my experience, values, and beliefs the rest of my life.

A Safe Place

The spiritual direction relationship was a safe port in the storm of my connection with Christianity. It also gave me the tools and the space for discernment—especially around vocation.

When I entered spiritual direction in the late 1980’s I had no thoughts of pursuing ministry. I was busy developing a career as a radio news journalist. My need for spiritual direction was solely about healing my image of God. And it was working—I was healing.

As I moved from market to market trying to make a living in what was turning out to be a shrinking field, I was fortunate to find many able and experienced spiritual directors along the way. The work I did in spiritual direction gradually changed me, showing me a greater depth of purpose in life.

The Call

By the mid-90’s, I was broadcasting 100-second news updates for a Baltimore rock station with a “Morning Zoo” format, fondly referred to in the business as a trio of “the d–k, the dork and the (news) girl.” My epiphany—my “call narrative,” so to speak, came when the two DJs brought in a female stripper to entertain them at work. While I’m not a prude, inviting a stripper to a radio show seemed useless, even counterproductive to me. Still, I played it cool, reading the news on air as she danced for the guys. Walking out of that studio, heading back to my closet (literally—they had me work out of a closet) I heard a tiny voice say “I want more than this for you.”

For me that meant attending the Ecumenical Institute of St. Mary’s Seminary in Baltimore at nights while continuing to be part of the Morning Zoo. From there I headed to San Francisco Theological Seminary because it had a training program for spiritual directors.

Giving Back

Wanting to give to others what I had received was a driving force for me vocationally. I thought I would work mostly with people—like me—who were refugees from fundamentalism. What I’ve come to appreciate is the variety of experience, concerns, and spiritual needs in the world. We’re all refugees from something. Everyone who enters spiritual direction has wounds, desires and beliefs worth paying attention to. We all need sacred space filled with compassion, deep listening, and reverence.

That’s why I became a spiritual director.

The Gift of Community

by Abigail Conley

If we want to schedule something out of the ordinary, it means working around the AA groups. I’m guessing many of your churches have people in some version of a twelve-step program in your buildings throughout the week. A small building means ours is a little fuller with these groups. 

There’s the early morning group well on their way by 8 a.m. They meet six days a week. There’s the giant men’s meeting, and a mixed-gender meeting, and now a speaker’s meeting. That version is open to anyone, it seems, including people who just want to know more about AA. We’re home to an Atheists and Agnostics meeting as well. They asked tentatively if we were ok with that. I laughed and said, “Yes. We’re Christian, so we have crosses and things like that around, though.” Oh, and then there’s the itty bitty Sunday night one. I think that’s all, but no guarantees.

I know more about Alcoholics Anonymous than I ever thought I would. And I know practically nothing. I am grateful for the leaders who are so kind and helpful to my congregation. Many of the members of the groups have plumbing and handyman skills and so will make small repairs. I offer to reimburse for supplies and they always say no. I return phone calls to people who call the church asking about AA, and give them times and what details I do know; it makes sense to them, at least. Mostly, I know they gather often and without fail, holidays and all. 

As a culture, we don’t know as much about addiction as we should. We don’t know how to effectively treat it. There’s little evidence to reinforce the abstinence-only model of AA. The organization started in the 1930s, with no scientific backing. But it works for many people and works shockingly well. 

I grew up in one of the many places where drugs have become part of the economy. Dealing or cooking or running drugs is viable employment when nothing else is; using drugs will make many problems go away for at least a little while. We know even less what to do with these addictions than alcohol. 

A topic for another day is how addiction is related to economy and to lack of healthcare, especially mental healthcare. But as I watch AA folks in my building, I am also deeply aware that one of the successful treatments for addiction is community. There are twelve steps, sure, but many of the people I see day in and day out have been sober for years, often decades. Somehow, that sobriety and community are linked. While it’s unlikely I’ll ever have medical expertise to talk about addiction, I remain amazed that an effective treatment for addiction is community; that has been true for nearly a century. 

This year, my church set some intentional growth goals. As someone who has been a part of a church my entire life, I sometimes forget that church can be the good kind of weird. Sure, you encounter little kids and old people in an increasingly age-segregated society. But church will also put you in rooms with much more wealth than you have and much less than you have. You will learn friendship with people with a wide variety of skills and abilities. In fact, every church I’ve been a part of had at least one adult who had an intellectual disability who was a valued member. 

When talking with people who don’t go to church, they are often shocked to find that we expect to visit people in the hospital. There are plenty of other terrible life things where churches are long-time companions for people. Yet, on more than one occasion I’ve heard shock and awe about hospital visits from people who have never been part of a faith community. I find it much more shocking that my own congregation has cultivated a place to talk about infertility, one of those cultural taboos. On a few occasions, news of a pregnancy was shared well before the expected thirteen weeks; one of the people sharing said, “If I have a miscarriage, I need my church through that.” It is decidedly not AA, and yet, there are striking similarities in how trusting those relationships become. 

I wholeheartedly believe a church cannot exist just for its members. The Gospel absolutely turns even the church outward from ourselves. Yet, I cannot escape the reality that deep, abiding community is apparently difficult to come by. That reality is attested by the people gathering in the first and last hours of daylight, and even as I write. Maybe even some of our biggest cultural struggles are wrapped up in a need for connection that is not being met. 

So when you gather this Sunday, the motley crew that most churches are, that alone is reason to rejoice. That gathering is surely one of the ways Jesus saves us. We need to remember that more often. 

Partnerships and Partings

by John Indermark

Acts 15:36-41

Partnerships. First there had been Peter and John in Jerusalem. Now came Barnabas and Saul in Antioch and points beyond. Heat forges bonds of metal and relationship. Barnabas took the heat of standing by Saul in Jerusalem when no other would, no doubt deepening their ties to one another. When Jerusalem commissioned Barnabas to the church at Antioch, Barnabas soon after traveled to Tarsus to find Saul that he might assist in the work at Antioch (Acts 11:19-26). Later, the pair would undertake a missionary journey to Cyprus.  

Two critical developments transform their partnership during this latter journey. What had heretofore been “Barnabas and Saul” (13:2) now became “Paul and his companions” (13:13). The text does not explain the reversal of billing, but the focus of Acts clearly shifts to Paul-no-longer-Saul. Secondly, almost as a footnote in the same verse introducing this new order, a minor companion named John Mark separated from the entourage in Pamphylia. 

Partnerships work in delicate balances, whether among friends or in businesses. . . or within churches. Regarding Paul and Barnabas: should a reversal in the order of names signal a change in the relationship? Not necessarily. Should the departure of a “junior partner” influence the workings of the seniors? Not always. It is to be underscored that neither of these occurrences, in their initial unfolding, caused Acts to explicitly note the partnership had changed.

Yet within two chapters, the partnership ends. Acts traces the cause to the footnoted departure of John Mark. A new journey awaited, a journey determined by Paul’s unilateral declaration (15:36). Barnabas desired to take John Mark with them, a desire squashed by Paul’s unilateral veto (15:38). Paul, apparently, now came first in more than name order. Disagreement deepens. The partnership dissolves. Barnabas and Saul, Paul and Barnabas, were no more. Great things done by these two would never be done in tandem again. They parted.

Before we trot out funeral dirges and mourners for a tragic ending, consider the fresh beginnings unleashed – not by Paul, but Barnabas. Barnabas, once again, risked his own reputation for the sake of a maligned colleague. Just as he had with Saul/Paul before, Barnabas gives John Mark another chance. By the gracious act of Barnabas, failure in the church in one instance is not hopelessly relegated to a lifelong imposition of disgrace and disuse. 

Truth be told, Barnabas surpassed Paul in this episode through re-enacting Jesus’ own tendency toward ministries of rehabilitation: a ministry that commissioned as apostles the very ones who had deserted him (Matthew 26:56); a ministry that founded a church upon the very one who denied knowing Jesus in a spate of curses. (Mark 14:71); a ministry of second chances.

Even the split that sends Barnabas and John Mark in one direction and Paul and Silas in another contributes positively to the church’s expansion. Where before one missionary partnership set out to declare the gospel of Jesus Christ, now two sets of partners fan out to do the same, potentially doubling the territory to be covered and the persons to be encountered.

So, to put this in a larger and contemporary frame: are denominational schisms to be sought? No. Are divisive church conflicts among its always-abundant cache of clashing personalities and vigorously-held theologies to be encouraged? No. But the parting of Barnabas with Paul for the sake of John Mark does reveal God’s ability to bring fresh beginnings out of seeming dead-ends. In the final analysis, it is not our successes or failures at church unity that manage God’s purposes. It is the other way around. Barnabas risked giving Saul a chance, then John Mark a second chance. And God used Barnabas’ risks. So it can be for us. May potential endings to what has been not preclude us from risking for the sake of what could be.