inclusive – Southwest Conference Blog

Addicted to Clever

One of my kiddos is a big fan of the Jurassic Park movies. He loves to say, “Clever girl!” in a fake Australian accent.

The “clever girl” in the movie is a vicious raptor. I’m not exactly comparing church people to a man-eating dinosaur, but I do think we try too hard and value too highly being clever.

Now I’m a Gen X girl, so cynical cleverness is bone-deep in me. As kids, my brother and I loved to watch Sha-na-na with our parents just for the obnoxious joy of complaining about it and poking fun at each person on the show. Clever is fun; clever protects you; clever seems easy.

Yet I’ve come to appreciate the simplicity of vulnerability, the willingness to speak from the heart without an armor of smart catchphrases, and the faith of an adult who’s moved into maturity and found that their faith has re-captured childlike awe. And I suspect that my struggles with being clever are shared by others.

Consider the recent UCC marketing campaign, ‘Still Speaking 2.0.’ Many of the social media ads missed the mark, this one perhaps most of all:

I had to search for a bit to find it again! It’s clever – superficial and smug – but misses the mark on fidelity and honesty in regard to history and scripture, not to mention glossing over the real harm done to LGBTQA+ persons by political and religious powers.

I don’t want to stop at criticizing the valuable work done in our national setting to promote local church vitality. I do want to offer this suggestion, for Still Speaking 2.0 and for us all: tone down the clickbait, take the chip off our collective shoulders, and stop trying to be cool.

Instead take a deep breath and make an invitation:

“This is our faith community. I’ve found something there – a welcome, a sense of calling, and people who love me. I would love for you to come check it out.”

Simple, honest, openhearted. What does THAT kind of marketing campaign look like?

Think about the difference between Peter trying too hard at the Transfiguration: “Jesus, I got it! Let’s build a little house for you, a little house for Elijah, and a little house for Moses and we’ll just stay right here!” and humbled, vulnerable Peter after Easter: “Lord, you know everything; you know I love you.” Peter’s job in much of the Jesus story is to be a complete doofus, but at the very end of the last chapter of the final Gospel, he gets it.

There’s hope for us all.

United Church…of Christ

by Tyler Connoley

I’m sure you’ve had this happen. Someone asks what church you belong to, and you tell them you go to Such-and-So United Church of Christ. They respond, “Church of Christ. Is that the one that doesn’t have instruments?” Then you try to explain that the United Church of Christ is different. We’re progressive and inclusive. You begin telling them about the history of the UCC, how we we trace ourselves to the Congregationalists, and the Evangelical and Reform, etc. Their eyes glaze over, and they say, “Oh look, there’s Mary, I’ve been meaning to talk to her.”

Ron Buford taught me a trick that made it so this never happens to me anymore. He said to say, “United Church” then pause and say, “of Christ.” Ron has a passion for the UCC and our uniqueness, and he said this way of saying our name emphasizes that uniqueness. (It’s also because of Ron’s influence that our current UCC logo has those two phrases stacked in different fonts.)

As I’ve learned to say United Church . . . of Christ, it’s helped me to think more deeply about our identity in the UCC. We are a united church, and we are of Christ. Both of those things are important to our identity.

As a non-credal church, we value our theological diversity. We embrace gay Christians and Christians who think gay relationships are a sin. We allow for many different ideas about the divinity of Jesus. Even our identity as a Just Peace Church is rooted in our commitment to be a United Church. When General Synod was asked to declare the UCC a pacifist denomination in the 1970s, they commissioned a study. At the end of that study, the General Synod decided that our diversity required us to acknowledge multiple theologies around responses to war. We committed ourselves to working for Peace with Justice, and allowed individual members to decide what was right and wrong for them.

Some people have difficulty with our identity as a United Church. I had a seminary colleague who was troubled by being part of a denomination that ordained clergy to serve as military chaplains. This person ended up becoming Quaker, valuing theological purity on issues of war over the UCC’s diversity.

On the other end of the spectrum, we are also “of Christ.” We celebrate lots of different ways of being Christian, but we still unite in a desire to follow Jesus. Rather than emphasize a diversity of religions, as the Unitarian Universalists do, we have chosen to stand within one particular tradition.

One of my heroes, Huston Smith, is an expert in world religions, but continues to identify as a Christian. To those who like to dabble in lots of different faith traditions, he says, “If you want to find water, stand in one place and dig as deep as you can.” That’s what being UCC is for me. I certainly find wisdom in other religions, and value my interfaith partners. However, I’ve chosen to stand in one place and dig as deep as I can, rather than dig shallow holes in several different religions.

When people ask me what the United Church of Christ is, I don’t say we’re the most-progressive Christian denomination — even though we’ve certainly led the way, on issues from ordaining women to civil rights. Instead, I tell people we’re the most-inclusive Christian denomination. We are as inclusive as one can possibly be, while still holding onto the Christian tradition. We are the United Church . . . of Christ.

Tossed Salad

by Amos Smith

The early church was about the inclusive love of Jesus that broke down walls between people! I think this was the miracle of the early church—that Jews and Gentiles, bonded and free, male and female, all worshiped under the same roof (Galatians 3:28). This was unheard of in the highly stratified society of Jesus’ time!

I have observed newcomers to Church of the Painted Hills, UCC in Tucson, Arizona, where I’m the pastor. They take one look around and get a sense of the diversity. And they either like it or they don’t.

Diversity comes in many different forms. There is diversity in politics, cultural background, length of church membership, ethnicity, economic class, type of family (traditional, blended, adoptive, et cetera), level of education, marital status, gender, age, theology, sexual orientation, musical taste, number of years in Arizona, and the list goes on…

One of the things I most appreciate about Church of the Painted Hills is our diversity. Diversity requires a higher level of maturity than homogeneity. People who genuinely tolerate diversity are comfortable enough in their own skin that they are not threatened by multiplicity. Just the other day someone came to me and disagreed with my point of view. This happens at least once a month from various people at Painted Hills and I find the candor refreshing. I prefer the tossed salad, where the tomato remains a tomato, the lettuce, lettuce, and the walnuts, walnuts. Otherwise everything blends together in a big soup. That’s much less interesting!

Let’s stay close to the tossed salad and to the inclusive love of Jesus!

How My Gay Brothers and Sisters Bolster My Faith

by Ken McIntosh

“My gay sisters and brothers have given me a tremendous gift—they are the witnesses that enable my own faith to withstand its most severe challenges.”

I begin this article with a confession. I should probably have used the #IWASKIMDAVIS hashtag for my Twitter and Facebook posts last month, because I’m one of those older ministers whose views have changed, and I’m chagrined to think of some of my past sermons and comments. My Christian life began in the Evangelical camp and I remained there for more than a decade. “You can only know what you know” and for years the only theological writings that I came across were of the typical and unfortunate category labeling “homosexuality” as a choice and a sin. Given that background, when I came across GLBT Christ followers, I could only see them as a challenge—challenging the presuppositions that I held.

My sister proved to be my salvation in this regard; without her I might still cling to a very limited view of God’s mercy, along with a hyper-literalist approach to the Bible. She has always been a model Christ-follower in our family (although I’m the one with the formal degree in theology). Simply by being herself, Joyce witnessed to me that my spiritual siblings who loved their partners of the same sex are as faithful to Christ and as transformed by the Spirit as I (nay, they are more so). And I’ve come to realize that my gay sisters and brothers have given me a tremendous gift—they are the witnesses that enable my own faith to withstand its most severe challenges.

As the culture wars heat up I’ve become intensely aware of how Christians get painted with a broad brush stroke. That came to a head a few weeks ago when a long-time friend told me “You’re not a Christian. If you choose that word to self-identify that’s your right, but I know Christians and you’re not that.” Now, she meant that as a compliment—her way of acknowledging that I’ve become a more inclusive and broad-minded person. But it also stung, because that accusation divides me within myself. Bombarded by the statements of right-wing politicians, preachers and ordinary believers, I struggle with doubts. Have I hit upon a truer faith now, or am I deluding myself to remain in a religion that has so long been characterized by oppression? Why couldn’t I have chosen a religion like Buddhism or Jainism that isn’t regarded as evil? Yes, I’m part of a big UCC family, with many inclusive fellow believers, but our numbers (around a million) are pretty small compared to more conservative groups like the Southern Baptists (15 times as many). And then I keep hearing old friends tell how they’ve left the faith and are so much more congruent embracing atheism (they do a good job evangelizing for their non-faith).

So am I crazy to keep believing? Thank God for the example of gay believers—they give me hope to keep on. If any group has reason to feel the sting of Christian guilt-by-association, it’s them. They’ve been told for centuries that their faith is illegitimate, that they are shameful and unloved by God. Yet their experience belies those lies and they continue to proclaim love for Jesus.

I read John Fortunato’s book Embracing the Exile: Healing Journeys of Gay Christians. He recounts the long and difficult struggle of growing up being both Catholic (sincerely devout) and gay. At one point he complains to God about his fellow believers saying “They call my light darkness! They call my love perverted! They call my gifts corruptions. What the hell are you asking me to do?” And then John Fortunato hears God’s voice, clear and unmistakable. “Love them anyway,” God said. “Love them anyway.”

I think of a trusted colleague in ministry, a gay man who reminds me that our calling is to assist all UCC churches to prosper—not just the Open and Affirming churches, not just the Progressive Churches—but all the churches in our conference.

I think of the young woman with a spikey hairdo in my church who wears a “Gay Christian” t-shirt and engages people in dialogue when they comment on that, taking on the role of an educator for the misinformed.

And if my gay companions can wear the label “Christian” despite the toxicity that’s been pinned onto that, then surely I can. Jesus is indeed fortunate to have such faithful followers—and I am blessed to be surrounded on earth by such witnesses.