community – Page 13 – Southwest Conference Blog

Blessed are . . .

Each year, we bless backpacks for kids headed back to school. We’ll pray over teachers’ bags and college students’ bags, and the bag of pretty much anyone who wants, but it starts with the kids. I make luggage tags for their backpacks, reminding them they are loved. Like the lectionary, I rotate on a three-year cycle, figuring it can work for more than one thing.

Overall, I think the Episcopalians and the Catholics do a better job of blessing than Congregationalists of most varieties. I could be wrong, but blessing just doesn’t hold the same prestige in our understanding of church. I am far more inclined to say that the ordinary is holy than to reserve a thing as purely holy; that inclination is a product of the churches that formed me.

Not surprisingly, the most ready notion of blessing for me is the Beatitudes. Along with the Lord’s Prayer, they were one of the texts memorized in fifth grade Sunday school if one wanted to graduate into youth group.

Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.
Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth.
Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.
Blessed are the merciful, for they will receive mercy.
Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.
Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.
Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are you when people revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you. (Matthew 5:3-12)

I most appreciate interpreting the Beatitudes as pronouncement. By speaking it, Jesus makes it true that these things are blessed.

For we who join in God’s work, this is why we bless backpacks. By speaking a word of blessing upon them, we make the work they represent holy. One of the gifts of the church is that we can discern this together.

While education is transformative, it is not easy. For children, it is not always good. My grandfather bribed me to go to kindergarten and not cry. I was barely old enough for kindergarten and the teacher’s whistle scared me. It took months to coax out that truth of why kindergarten was so hard. In the meantime, my grandfather paid me fifty cents a day to go to school, not to cry, and trusted me to tell him the truth. He paid me in quarters every weekend. The price was set at fifty cents because it was the cost of a can of soda at recess.

Later grades would bring other challenges. I had the same terrible teacher for second and third grades. My elementary school closed. Middle school is terrible for pretty much everyone. Then I wonder if high school is any better and mostly, I think about how hard it all was. It was hard for me, who got straight As, who had plenty of friends, who never got picked on. I can only imagine what it was like for other kids. School itself, even with saintly teachers, is far from holy. It is blessed because we choose for it to be. It is blessed because the Church has decided to bless it.

I wonder what things we’re missing. What aren’t we calling holy? What things need our blessing? What is waiting for a word of transformation?

Faithful Decision Making – Rising to the Challenge of the Times

by Karen Richter

When Scott and I were first married, we had a friend named Glenn who worked with Scott at Barnett Bank in Florida. Glenn told us one evening about watching a teller at the bank flipping through a large stack of bills… She touched each bill for a fraction of a second and maybe once in the stack she would pull a bill out and put it to the side. These were the bills that she suspected were counterfeit. Actually more than suspecting, she just KNEW – knew from the slight variations of the texture of the paper and ink under the edge of her thumb.

What does that story have to do with discernment? Discernment is not like that. We very seldom ‘just know.’ Over a person’s lifetime, they make millions of decisions of all shapes and sizes. Over a person’s lifetime, maybe for one of those decisions, they “just know.”

The traditional practice of discernment – faithful decision making – as spiritual discipline owes much to the Catholic Ignatian tradition and to Quaker practices. There’s a history there and much ancient wisdom… but that’s not today’s blog.

Discernment is a practice suited well to the times in which we live. So let’s take a minute to talk about how we might understand these times. So many of us have a gut feeling that there’s something special different unique going on in our churches and institutions. Is it just our imagination or are things truly changing more quickly and more profoundly than in times past? Church historian Phyllis Tickle writes about this idea: that every 500 years or so, the church has a “great rummage sale” in which ideas and notions of the role of the church get all shifty (The Great Emergence, Baker Books 2012). The Protestant Reformation was the most recent of these great transitions (Luther’s theses were posted on Halloween in 1517 – early Renaissance social media LOL). The Reformation was a time in which the authority of the church shifted in a profound way – from the Pope and the hierarchy of the church to the scriptures.

1517… hmmm. Well… TICK TOCK Y’ALL. We’re due for another great rummage sale, and it’s happening all around us. Tickle’s thesis is that the transition in which we’re living now is another change in our source of authority: from the Bible to the Spirit.

Assuming that she’s right*, it behooves us to learn the best ways to hear the voice of Spirit. And that’s what discernment is all about. Spiritual direction is a great setting in which to dive into personal and vocational discernment. I think of direction as a container in which discernment can unfold.

In that container (or in whatever setting we are discerning), there’s an atmosphere of trust.

We trust the deep desires of our heart. When we ask discernment questions, we trust that our hearts are already leaning the right way. We trust that God somehow has placed those desires in our hearts.
We trust the goodness of Life at a basic level. In this way, we are able to hold our decision lightly… to remain open and receptive to the Spirit’s movement, letting go of our own agenda even if just for a time.
We trust our imagination and intuition. We allow our emotions and physical sensations to inform our decision making. My spiritual direction mentor and supervisor Rev Teresa Blythe has this go-to question: ‘where do you feel this decision in your body?’ It took me a while sitting with this question to grasp what it means.
Finally, we trust our community. We lean on one another’s wisdom.

Discernment is entwined with the Cs of our faith journey– commandment, commission, and commitment – and interacts with those concepts around the question of HOW. Discernment is all about the HOW.

How do we respond to the commandment of love? What does our call to love look like on the ground, in real life?
How do we live into the task before us – our commission to embrace this life and embody grace and peace? What part of this work is ours to do? What tasks have my name on them?
How do we sustain the commitment that’s required to build the house of Wisdom?

These are the questions of discernment continually lying before us: as a faithful community, as individuals, as a culture, as a species. May we make decisions that are life-giving. Amen.

*☺ I’m not at all qualified to argue with Phyllis Tickle! Her ideas are given the briefest summary/mangle here. The Great Emergence is a fab overview of church history for lay persons.

July 24, 2018

by Abigail Conley

I woke up early, sick to my stomach because I ate things I shouldn’t of the night before. I stayed up and wrote a sermon.

I ate a late breakfast, watched some TV, took a shower, and headed to Costco.

On Sunday, I’d received an email asking for goods to be donated to help families being reunified following separation under Trump’s zero tolerance immigration policy. On Sunday afternoon, I sent out an email to the congregation asking for water, pads, stuffed animals, snacks, backpacks and a few other things. We needed them all by Tuesday night. With the limited time frame, several people sent money instead of dropping off goods. I was headed to Costco to spend that money on what was needed.

I put giants boxes of Always brand pads in my cart, along with boxes of trail mix and boxes of granola bars. I went to the back of the store to get water, but settled on Gatorade instead. I don’t get stomach bugs often, so it was not too long ago that I found out that Gatorade can be a magical elixir. It seemed that people recently released from detention might need that magical elixir, even if it was much more expensive.

I checked out and went on my way. As I was walking out of the doors, my phone rang. A colleague in Tucson was calling. Were we doing anything? They money donated for immediate needs. Could we get stuff there? I told her I would gladly turn around and buy more supplies if she told me how much. I hadn’t been able to find my Costco card before leaving home, so I went back for a temporary one a second time. I grabbed a cart a second time. I bought nuts instead of trail mix this time, but still pads, Gatorade, and granola bars. I loaded these items into my car.

I called my partner as I left the parking lot to tell him it was a good thing I’d gotten his car instead of my much smaller one. When I got to the church, I unloaded so that everything could be better reloaded later. I added to the stash of what was already waiting in the classroom.

Then, I called my contact at the social service agency to confirm a drop-off time and see if any needs had changed. The needs had, in fact, changed some. The families had requested Bibles in Spanish, men’s deodorant, a broader assortment of hygiene items, and shoelaces for kids and adults. Detention, after all, is a form of jail. Of course, the officers took everyone’s shoelaces, even the kids’.

I sat at my desk and cried. The horror settled in. My government, my neighbors see these kids and their parents as dangerous enough to lock them up, even taking away their shoelaces. I’d always assumed that when someone was released, whatever items were taken were returned to them. Apparently, this is not true. These kids and their parents need shoelaces.

Sometimes, we count atrocities in both humanizing and terrifying ways. I’ve never been able to shake the sight of the piles of shoes in the Holocaust Museum in D.C. Now, I’m wondering, where are there piles of shoelaces? Can they be counted? What is done with them? Who keeps them? Who notices the workboot laces and purple sparkles of children’s laces in the same bins? Where are all of those shoelaces now? Somewhere, there are thousands of shoelaces. Somewhere, there is this tangible record of this horror unfolding on our borders. I wonder who is bearing witness to these piles of shoelaces.

Time ran slowly for a while. I sat, shocked by the weight of the terrible. I know my horror pales in comparison to what my neighbors are going through. I cannot imagine what it is like to have your life fall apart so completely that you must ask neighbors for shoelaces.

I cannot forget those shoelaces. I imagine that from now on, every time I touch shoelaces, I will remember this day.

More friends and colleagues donated money that afternoon. I stopped to get food for myself at the grocery store because my packed lunch was insufficient. Deodorant was on sale, as were school supplies, so I gathered up backpacks and deodorant, $90 worth. When I got to the register, I stumbled into a sale, so it was only $65. I was in a hurry, needing to be back at work, so I didn’t go back for more.

Back at church, I unlocked the doors. Friends I had not seen in quite some time brought supplies. Another friend and I sorted through donations, getting them ready to go. At 7, I loaded my car. For some unknown reason, I reserved this task for myself, wanting to somehow count, know what was loaded.

Having money left from donations and some more thrown in over the course of the afternoon, I stopped at Target and bought every single pair of shoelaces I could find that might possibly be of use. They only had laces for men’s shoes, but I bought them. Workboot laces and sneaker laces and dress shoe laces. Seventeen pairs. The total was within 20¢ of the money I had left. I added the shoelaces to everything else and went home, so very tired.

Once upon a time, I would have said exhausted. That is not true. I was very tired. I was not exhausted. People who need shoelaces are exhausted, not me, who curled up in bed and watched a movie before drifting off to sleep, safe and secure in my own home.

May God have mercy on our neighbors who need shoelaces. I don’t know how to ask for God’s mercy for the rest of us.

Locking up Jesús

by Talitha Arnold

Once, a few centuries ago, two parents arrived with their child at the border of another country. They had fled their homeland because of the violence directed toward children like the infant they held in their arms. It had been a difficult journey across the desert, but the hope of safety for their child compelled them to keep walking.

There’s no record of what happened at the border, but the refugee family must have been welcomed, since they were able to stay in the new country until the terror in their homeland ended and it was safe for their child.

The parents were named Joseph and Mary (José y María, in Spanish). The toddler, of course, was Jesus, or Jesús in Spanish. Mary and Joseph were probably not the only parents who walked across the desert to find refuge in Egypt. King Herod’s reign of terror threatened every toddler boy under 2. Who wouldn’t flee such violence for the sake of their children?

Whether we call them Mary, Joseph and Jesus or María, José y Jesús, the biblical refugee family’s story is at the heart of the Christian faith. It should also be in the heart of every person — including every political leader — who claims to be Christian. How we treat refugees, how we welcome the stranger, how we love and care for those in need — all of that is informed by the life of the one who himself was a refugee, who grew up as a stranger in a strange land, who knew what it was like to be in need of the kindness of others.

As a Christian pastor and a U.S. citizen, I am a firm believer in the First Amendment’s separation of church and state. However, when political leaders use religious texts to justify government policies — as both Attorney General Jeff Sessions and White House press secretary Sarah Huckabee Sanders did last week — then religious leaders need to respond. Hence this article.

Moreover, if either Sessions or Sanders really knew their Christianity, they would know that Jesus himself broke political and religious laws time and again in order to obey the greatest law of all — to love God and love neighbor. In fact, had either of them kept reading a bit further in Romans 13, they’d seen that Paul affirmed Jesus’ teaching. “All the commandments can be summed up in this word,” Paul wrote, “ ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ Love does no wrong to the neighbor, therefore love is the fulfilling of the law.”

If political leaders are going to quote Christian scripture, they need to get it right. The heart of the Christian faith is to have the heart of the One who taught us to love our neighbor and care for the stranger. The One who was a refugee and found welcome in a new land.

this article originally appeared as the lead editorial in the Santa Fe New Mexican on June 23, 2018

Hope of a Teddy Bear

by Abigail Conley

This week, I have wept. Before this, I’d held back tears about the children in cages in detention centers. Maybe that’s why it’s been so long since I’ve written, actually, unwilling to open the flood gates. The dumpster fire is raging after all.

But many times over the last two days, I have wept.

On Saturday, an agency reuniting families sent a request for donations of items. While families have been held, there was little to collect in the way that churches do. The list was not long and many of the things you would expect: water and Gatorade, backpacks, pads, and snacks. I cried over one item, though: small stuffed animals. It wasn’t the stuffed animals, but the descriptor given: “comfort items for the children.”

My heart broke, the flood gates opened, and they haven’t stopped.

It’s a clinical descriptor, one I’ve heard before in education about child development. However, the deep place that I know it from is The Giver. If you haven’t read the children’s book, go get it and read it. I guarantee your local library has it. Like many of my favorite books, it’s set in a dystopian time–future or past, I don’t know. It is a world of sameness, though, and familial bonds have intentionally been destroyed. Children are born in one place, birthed by women of sturdy stock, but placed with families deemed more functional. Among many things, love is not a concept or a practice. Read the book; I promise that it’s really good.

In that world, children are given specific clothes to mark transitions. Items come and go at specific times in development, as they do for all children in the community. One of those items is a comfort object. The main character’s sister, Lily, is near to losing hers because of her age. It is, indeed, called a comfort object. She doesn’t realize in other places, it would be called an elephant. She has had it since infancy and sleeps with it at night. After all, that’s what comfort objects are for.

There’s some horrible reality when this phrase from dystopian fiction comes barreling into requests from churches. Last night, I went to Target and bought ten small teddy bears as my family’s contribution to the drive. Comfort objects.

My own childhood comfort object is stashed away at home. I’ve had it for more than thirty years now, a gift from family friends for my third birthday. At least that’s what my family tells me. I don’t remember getting Flop, but I do remember him always being with me. He’s a pink rabbit, now faded to nearly gray. His eye and head were reattached by my grandmother, her stitches still visible. Like Flop’s origins, my family remembers nighttime searches for him so that I could sleep. There were trips back to grandparents’ houses to retrieve him and flashlights taken to the playhouse. He was necessary and loved. My mom still rolls her eyes when I mention him, remembering the many times she moved hell and high water to find him; she’d do it, again. He’s still in my home for a reason.

Maybe I would not cry so much for these children if I didn’t have such an attachment for Flop. He represents a stability that every child deserves, from the bunny himself to the people who searched for him throughout my childhood. My parents still attend church with the people who bought him for me. There is so much stability wrapped up in that raggedy stuffed animal.

I am glad for these tears because we should mourn for these children who will never have that sort of stability in their lives. We should mourn for our complicity in their reality.

Strikingly, the best secular descriptor I have for the Reign of God also comes from The Giver. When the main character, Jonas, is realizing the gift he possesses, he catches a glimpse of red as he and his best friend are tossing an apple back and forth. In this world of sameness, most people do not see color. He only sees it occasionally and is never quite certain it was there and no one else sees it. When he does catch a glimpse, he wants to know more; it piques his curiosity. “Red” he learns later. “Red” describes this amazing thing.

I often think of that image. It’s Matthew’s “the kingdom of heaven is at hand” and all of the already and not yet of the Gospels. It’s the upside down of Luke that God would choose the poor over the rich, the child over the leader, and the simple over the complex. It’s beautiful and hopeful, even in the midst of threat.

As I write, people are dropping off the items needed. I have prayed over them many times today and will pray over them some more before handing them off. I hope they are at least a glimpse of something else. I don’t care at all if the people receiving would call it the reign of God. I hope they see a glimpse of a world where hungry people are fed, thirsty people are handed water, and children are comforted. I hope they see a glimpse of the fact that many of us would not choose their reality for any one. I hope it is a beautiful, wonderful glimpse of something, anything else.

Here’s hoping this little teddy bear does exceeds expectations in the Reign of God.

Please, Progressive Christian Blogosphere, Stop Telling People to Leave Their Church

by Karen Richter

Recently, I’ve heard increasing calls to justice-minded people of faith that sound like this: “If you don’t hear about (insert issue here) at church this Sunday, you should leave.”

Please stop.

Now I often agree with these folks on the issue at hand… immigration, racial justice, women’s equality, education. My problem is with leaving church as a protest or as part of the solution to the issue, and here’s why:

I’m loathe to tell anyone to leave their church as if I know best.

People stay in or leave relationships, including relationships with faith communities, for a wide variety of reasons. Do you know anyone who attends a church that doesn’t fully fit with their theology? I’ve been that person in a church before – always in tension between my friendships and my ideals and wondering when to speak up and when to just pray.

Plus there’s this uncomfortable truth. Church attendance continues to shrink. Let’s not be so quick to encourage people to leave.

Churches have a lot going on Sunday mornings and a lot of people to care for.

There was a season of grief a couple of years ago at Shadow Rock. We lost three beloved people from our congregation over about a month. During those few weeks, we didn’t have a lot of energy for the issues that we care about most. We wept; we held our friends close; we baked cookies for memorial services. The world with its beauties and horrors continued to spin, but we paused to grieve. Some times require an inward focus, a time of rest and healing, and self-care, even for our most activist, justice warrior congregations. Hear the call of the Spirit to be gentle with one another and hold one another in love.

Pastors/ministers/preacher creatures are not the only voices of faith in our churches.

You’re liable to get an earful from me on this point, friends! If your pastor is not speaking from the pulpit concerning an issue you’re passionate about, speak up! One of the glories of the United Church of Christ is our insistence that every level of the church is empowered to speak to every level of the church. Maybe we could say that we take very seriously (radically, even) the idea of the Priesthood of all Believers. If your church is silent on something that matters, maybe God is calling you to be a faithful voice in that place. Maybe your church leadership needs your encouragement. Maybe you need to get brave during Coffee Hour or adult education. Maybe what’s missing is YOU.

Perhaps (this is advanced citizenship in God’s realm!), we acknowledge to our friends and our pastors that sometimes we want to leave. We are genuine and honest about the push-pull of going and staying. It’s awkward! Yet painful conversation by painful conversation, we reveal to each other what we’re striving for and what keeps us awake in the wee hours.

Finally, religious consumerism is killing us slowly.

I tread carefully here. Of course I want people to love their churches. Of course I want people of faith to feel supported in faith communities. Of course I want churches to be strong forces of justice, peace, and grace – salt and light – all over the world.

BUT people aren’t perfect. Churches aren’t perfect. So when our communities disappoint us, when our leaders turn out to be clay-footed, when our church friends make bad or even terrible choices… we can go and try to find a better church or we can stay and try to make our church better. Both are valid. But when church people move on because of conflict or discomfort or fear, our communities suffer and our capacity to be the body of Christ in these troubling times suffers as well.

Please stay.

Attention is the key to creating…

by Jocelyn Emerson

In my last blog I spoke about how we are all source (with a small ’s’) and invited us to really truly own that — to step fully into our power as co-creators and manifestors. I realize that can be a challenging thing.

We live in a country right now where many of us feel powerless to change the destruction of our values and ethics. We are witnessing the tearing apart of families seeking asylum here in this country. We are watching racism rear its ugly head again, and witnessing it being supported by the White House.

We are witnessing and experiencing stronger weather — more tornados, stronger hurricanes, greater frequencies of flooding, volcanos erupting. Mother Nature is reminding us of what happens when we do not care for Her.

With all that is happening in the outer world, no wonder we feel disheartened and disempowered in our inner world.

But here’s the thing…

When we create change and transformation, it is not by opposing or changing what is already created. It is by creating what we want independently of what we want to change. What we want changed, we dis-create, release, let die.

There is an old Cherokee story:

An old grandfather said to his grandson, who came to him with anger at a friend who had done him an injustice, “Let me tell you a story. I, too, at times have felt a great hate for those that have taken so much, with no sorrow for what they do.

But hate wears you down, and does not hurt your enemy. It is like taking poison and wishing your enemy would die. I have struggled with these feelings many times.”

He continued, “It is as if there are two wolves inside me. One is good and does no harm. He lives in harmony with all around him, and does not take offense when no offense was intended. He will only fight when it is right to do so, and in the right way.

But the other wolf, ah! He is full of anger. The littlest thing will set him into a fit of temper. He fights everyone, all the time, for no reason. He cannot think because his anger and hate are so great. It is helpless anger, for his anger will change nothing.

Sometimes it is hard to live with these two wolves inside me, for both of them try to dominate my spirit.”

The boy looked intently into his Grandfather’s eyes and asked, “Which one wins, Grandfather?”

The Grandfather smiled and quietly said, “The one I feed.”
[source]

What we feed is what will grow and manifest. If we want to change something, we must first stop feeding what we want changed, and then create the new changed thing to feed and feed that. If we feed justice, compassion, love, beauty and harmony, the opposing forces will atrophy and die because there is no energy flowing into them. We have done nothing other than direct our attention and creating power to what we want to create!

In creating attention is key. It is the food that feeds what we create. Attention includes our focus, our intention, the work we do, our negative or positive thoughts, any self-conversations we have, our fears, and more. Attention can be positive or negative.

And this is why it is so important that we be conscious of our power to create! This is why it is so important that we be conscious and aware of our thought patterns.

If we are putting too much negativity toward what we want to create, it will create itself with that energy — and not in the way we desire it to. Then we will place the blame out there, or use it as proof that our doubt (the negativity we directed at our creation) was correct. We are stuck in a cycle where we become frustrated creators, and end up feeling powerless to bring what we want into our lives.

If we are aware and conscious and work to feed our creation with positive energy: love, harmony, hope, desire, compassion; it will create itself in a beautiful way. We will be amazed at what happens. Confidence will come back into our being. We will wake up one morning realizing that we are fully standing in our own Power, our own Light.

In both creating experiences, it was our attention that did the creating. The Universe listened and acted to support where our focus was.

This is also why I co-create with Spirit. Spirit helps to awaken me, to beckon me to recognize my fears, doubts, negative thought forms and patterns. Spirit invites me to look at them, release them, heal what needs to be healed. All along, Spirit holds the positive outlook I need until I am able to step fully into it. When I am ready, Spirit boosts my positivity and amazing things are created.

Co-creation is an invitation to heal and grow as we create. Co-creation is an invitation to follow the guidance of the One, the Sacred in all that we do. Co-creation is an invitation to learn to master the art of feeding the good wolf.

Which wolf are you feeding today? Which wolf do you want to be feeding?

Quelling the Dumpster Fire

by Abigail Conley

I may have confessed my mildly embarrassing love of Buzzfeed before. They do some decent journalism, but I’m mostly there for the shopping lists and pictures of cute animals. Every once in a while, someone creates a list of pure things, or good things, or cute things as an antidote to whatever current dumpster fire is happening. I totally confess that I’m in dumpster fire mode right now. I’m preaching on the holiness of lament on Sunday. Like most of us, I don’t quite know what to do with everything. My congregation doesn’t have the bandwidth for addressing everything that is going on right now. It’s all so much.

So what would make the dumpster fire feel less threatening?

What if we talked about all the good things? What if we named the equivalent of pictures of animals to soothe your soul but it was as ordinary as any given Sunday?

Here’s some of my list, some of the things that make me smile, convince me the Church is actually amazing, and make me forget the dumpster fire for a little bit.

There’s this little girl who is exactly where she should be in faith development and so she’s concrete in everything. She’s doesn’t want to be a vampire or a cannibal, so she’s very weirded out by communion. As if that weren’t enough of the amazingness of this little kid, she talked to me about it. The next Sunday, I gave her a children’s collection of midrash, stories about stories in the Bible. She was curled up reading within seconds. I got a thank you note from her a week later, which is stuffed into my “Warm Fuzzies” folder to take out on the bad days.
People set up automatic bill pay for church giving. It’s a totally mundane thing that is deeply meaningful. It’s a sign of commitment to the church that is deeper than when it feels good. Also, I like being able to cash my paycheck, for a purely selfish reason. This all works because people choose to be faithful in so many ways.
AA. I wish AA were based in science. It’s not. It’s from the 1930s and abstinence is the only way according to the group. But you know what, it works for a lot of people. We have nine AA meetings a week at church and those guys are awesome. All of the leaders in our groups happen to be men. They will do the odd jobs the church needs help with, which is nice. More than that, they are among the shockingly faithful. They understand community and the importance of showing up. In some cases, they show up six days a week at 6:45 in the morning. Whoever is making coffee shows up earlier. It’s pretty amazing to watch and be invited into.
A young adult in our congregation is currently in a long-term residential addiction treatment program. We weren’t sure if we’d see him for the two years he’s in the program. He showed up to worship last Sunday along with fourteen other guys from his program. We started late because of all the hugging.
Someone buys the communion bread every single week.
The deacons tilt the Christ candle for the little kids to light. It started because, well, the kids were too short but we wanted to invite them to participate. What is hilarious is that it’s then how lighting the candle works in kids’ minds. As they grow, many of them don’t realize for a while they can reach the candle on their own. They stand, patiently waiting for the deacon to tilt the candle so they can light it.
People terrified of church still find their way to us. It’s not usually on Sunday morning. It’s the AA meeting or the gun violence town hall or the education forum. They make not funny jokes about the roof collapsing because they entered the building. They look nervous. And it’s all just fine. Because I am certain that God loves them, too.

Why don’t you take a few minutes and make a list of your own.

#FamiliesBelongTogether

by Jocelyn Emerson

Yesterday was a day of action to state that in this country #FamiliesBelongTogether.

It is terribly sad, disgraceful and angering that I currently live in a country where the powers that be feel it appropriate to separate children from their parents at the border. It is even more disheartening and angering when a politician misquotes the Bible, as if sacred scripture would support such injustice!

I am proud to be pastoring a progressive congregation where members participated in this day of action. I have great respect for Martha and Ray who picked up one of our church signs and went to the intersection that leads to Homeland Security ICE field office here in Albuquerque, and stood in protest. Who then moved themselves and stood outside the US Citizenship and Immigration Service office continuing their vigil and peaceful protest. Two voices — two everyday people — two people of faith who took their faith seriously, risking as Jesus risked to call for justice!

Then last night, as I was winding down my day with Stephen Colbert’s Late Show, Colbert took a moment to speak out against this injustice as well. He got right down to it, shining a light on this disgraceful policy of our government. He asked all citizens to stand against these atrocities. He spoke about the greatest gift you could give your father this Father’s Day is to call your Senators and Representatives and ask for a discontinuation of this unjust policy. #FamiliesBelongTogether

As a person of faith, as a spiritual leader, I feel that I must speak out against injustice. Jesus requires it of us if we are to seriously follow in his footsteps.

In the gospel of Mark, Jesus speaks to the disciples about what it means to the greatest, saying, “Whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all.” Then he took a little child and put it among them; and taking it in his arms, he said to them, “Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me but the one who sent me.” He continues later in that same chapter, “If any of you put a stumbling block before one of these little ones who believe in me, it would be better for you if a great millstone were hung around your neck and you were thrown into the sea…”

Jesus is about protecting our children. He is about making sure that our children, all children, are treated with Love, Respect, Mercy, Compassion. He is about making sure that children are safe, loved and protected.

He is not about tearing families apart just to prove a point, to deter people from seeking sanctuary. He is about welcoming fully those who seek sanctuary.

I believe that Martha and Ray were being Christ — doing as Jesus would do — as they stood in peaceful silent protest before ICE. I heard the voice of Christ coming forth as Colbert asked us all to stand up against injustice. I see Christ’s Light grow each time I witness someone standing in Love and Compassion against injustice, violence, hatred.

I will join my Christ Light — shining the Light of healing and transformation in this darkness. I will call on those in power to change their ways. I will continue to hold up those who risk their bodies and voices to speak out again injustice.

I will seek to be Christ in this world.

I invite you to join me….
because #familiesbelongtogether

This is Me

by Tony Minear

“This is ME.” Powerful words. To be able to proclaim them aloud in the presence of another takes courage and strength. For before I can make this proclamation, I have to find the audacity to utter these three words to myself.

“This is ME.” Strengths and faults, “This is ME.” While I may not yet be able to fully embrace all facets of who I am, I say to myself and others, “This is ME.” While there may be areas of my life I want to grow in or change, today, I proclaim, “This is Me.”

Throughout my life, a factor so real to me that it became human like consistently kept me from claiming these words. Meet Expectations. Initially, Expectations was a stranger to me. As an infant I had no awareness of its presence. Eventually, I was introduced to Expectations by adults and peers. Its objective was clear, to shape me into the likeness of the majority of people around me. The same people Expectations had already worked its magic upon. Expectations’ creed was “This is us” not “This is me.” I share with you an example of how this played once played out in my life.

New Scene

I had been in my new church for only a few weeks when a church member, who had been part of the team that hired me, confronted me.

“Tony, I think we hired the wrong person,” she said.

“Don’t freak out. Remain calm.” I told myself. “Look confidant.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“You talk about Jesus way too much in your sermons and you hold the Bible far too long. Once you read from it, just set it down.”

This event was not a major issue. Initially, none of them were. They were, however, forecasting the weather over the horizon. Sure enough, the big storm blew in and left destruction in its path while carrying me off with it. For four years I used every trick up my sleeve to make “ME” work at that church. Unsuccessful. With time and distance, along with help from others unloading the crap of self-doubt I had piled upon myself, I finally realized that woman was right. They hired the wrong person. They hadn’t hired “ME.” They hired the Tony who they thought they could mold to fit their expectations stemming from a long tenured previous minister. Some of these expectations they probably weren’t even aware of. However, the more I became aware of them, I found courage and strength to start living out the words, “I am brave, I am bruised. I am who I’m meant to be, this is ME.” I didn’t do this on my own. One church member in particular, a psychiatrist, believed in ME. He encouraged me to remain true and steady to my convictions and values in a loving yet powerful way.

This experience helped me realize the further out you are from the accepted norm, the greater the effort exerted by others to bring you into conformity. To bring this about a variety of tactics are employed. At first, they are subtle, pleading and cajoling. Nonetheless, if the appropriate results don’t come about, they hand you an all-expenses paid ticket to Guilt. If you return from the trip looking and acting the same, assorted expressions of disappointment and anger await you at your front door. Eventually, out of sheer hopelessness and despair, they roll out the cannons and start firing cannon balls with the word “Rejection” engraved on each one.

Benj Pasek, one of the writers of the hit, “This is Me,” from the movie The Greatest Showman, at one point experienced some, perhaps even all of these tactics. “For myself, I was a closeted gay man who as a teenager felt like the world was inundating me with messages that you’re not good enough or you’re unlovable.” Therefore, when Director Michael Gracey started looking for “an anthemic song for the people who had lived in the shadows their entire lives and had stepped in the light, declaring they would be seen and love themselves as they are,” Pasek found that wounded place within and begin to compose a song that would resonate with many of us.

New Scene

The Bearded Woman, from the movie The Greatest Showman, sings “This is Me” in the midst of the nobles while surrounded by the rest of Barnum’s misfits. Misfits, the ones you might drop a few bucks to go gaze at and find entertaining; not the ones you expect to see outside of their environment and especially not in yours. If you watch the scene closely, you might catch the cameo appearance by Jesus. Jesus’s makeup and wardrobe make him difficult to spot. Some have thought they saw him disguised as Tom Thumb or Fedor Jeftichew, the Dog-Faced Boy. That doesn’t surprise me. The historical Jesus would have fit in perfectly with Barnum’s motley crew and sang with gusto as he harmonized with the Bearded Woman, “This is ME.”

New Scene

Jesus reclining at a table with those who have been pushed to the margins of society. Jesus appears at ease, comfortable, a smile on his face interspersed with lively laughter. As he receives a slice of bread from the young man who has lost everything because he couldn’t keep up with his debt, Jesus says to him, “You know that you deserve love (Oh-oh-oh-oh) ’cause there’s nothing you’re not worthy of.” Between sips of wine, Jesus makes eye contact with the physically disabled woman seated across the table, “You’re marching on to the beat of your drum (marching on, marching, marching on). Don’t be scared to be seen. Make no apologies. Proclaim with pride, “This is ME.”

“This is ME.” Powerful words. May you and I find the resolve to claim them for ourselves. May we find the passion to support and empower others to do the same.

Watch “This is Me” with Keala Settle, 20th Century Fox

“This is Me” Lyrics

I am not a stranger to the dark
Hide away, they say
‘Cause we don’t want your broken parts
I’ve learned to be ashamed of all my scars
Run away, they say
No one’ll love you as you are

But I won’t let them break me down to dust
I know that there’s a place for us
For we are glorious

When the sharpest words wanna cut me down
I’m gonna send a flood, gonna drown them out
I am brave, I am bruised
I am who I’m meant to be, this is me
Look out ’cause here I come
And I’m marching on to the beat I drum
I’m not scared to be seen
I make no apologies, this is me

Oh-oh-oh-oh
Oh-oh-oh-oh
Oh-oh-oh-oh
Oh-oh-oh-oh
Oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh, oh, oh

Another round of bullets hits my skin
Well, fire away ’cause today, I won’t let the shame sink in
We are bursting through the barricades and
Reaching for the sun (we are warriors)
Yeah, that’s what we’ve become (yeah, that’s what we’ve become)

I won’t let them break me down to dust
I know that there’s a place for us
For we are glorious

Oh-oh-oh-oh
Oh-oh-oh-oh
Oh-oh-oh-oh
Oh-oh-oh-oh
Oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh, oh, oh
This is me

and I know that I deserve your love
(Oh-oh-oh-oh) ’cause there’s nothing I’m not worthy of
(Oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh, oh, oh)
When the sharpest words wanna cut me down
I’m gonna send a flood, gonna drown them out
This is brave, this is proof
This is who I’m meant to be, this is me

Look out ’cause here I come (look out ’cause here I come)
And I’m marching on to the beat I drum (marching on, marching, marching on)
I’m not scared to be seen
I make no apologies, this is me

When the sharpest words wanna cut me down
I’m gonna send a flood, gonna drown them out
I’m gonna send a flood
Gonna drown them out
Oh
This is me