church – Southwest Conference Blog

Balancing Justice Work, Worship, and Spirituality: Being the Church

by Rev. Dr. Derrick Elliot

Twelve years ago, one of the things that drew me to the United Church of Christ was our commitment to justice work and the inspiring God Still Speaking campaign (spiritual and worship) on TV. This journey began as a member of Casas Adobes Congregational Church UCC, where I became a Member in Discernment. Now, I am the pastor of two UCC churches. Throughout this journey, I have seen the importance of balancing our call to justice work with our worship and spiritual life. In the United Church of Christ, we are deeply committed to all three. Our work for justice, our worship, and our spiritual practices are not mutually exclusive but rather three essential aspects of our mission of being the church in the world.

Biblical Foundations

The Bible offers us numerous examples of the inseparability of justice, worship, and spirituality. The prophet Micah summarizes this beautifully: “He has shown you, O mortal, what is good. And what does the Lord require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God” (Micah 6:8). This verse encapsulates the essence of our calling—justice, mercy, and humble devotion to God.

Jesus himself emphasized this balance. In Matthew 23:23, He rebukes the Pharisees, saying, “Woe to you, teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites! You give a tenth of your spices—mint, dill, and cumin. But you have neglected the more important matters of the law—justice, mercy, and faithfulness.” Here, Jesus points out the necessity of both outward acts of justice and inner spiritual devotion, which includes worship.

The early church also embodied this balance. In Acts 2:42-47, we see the early Christians devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, to the breaking of bread and prayers, while also sharing their possessions and ensuring that no one among them was in need. Their worship and communal life were deeply connected to their acts of justice and mercy.

The Consequences of Imbalance

When we heavily focus on justice work without nurturing our spiritual life and worship, we risk burnout and disillusionment. Justice work can be demanding and emotionally taxing. Without a solid spiritual foundation and regular worship, the relentless pursuit of justice can lead to feelings of frustration and exhaustion. For example, activists who neglect their spiritual practices and worship may find themselves overwhelmed by the enormity of the issues they are addressing, leading to a loss of hope and motivation.

Conversely, when we focus solely on spirituality and worship without engaging in justice work, our faith can become insular and disconnected from the world around us. Spiritual practices and worship that do not inspire action can lead to a form of complacency where we feel spiritually fulfilled but fail to address the pressing needs of our neighbors. This imbalance can result in a church that is rich in spiritual life and worship but poor in social impact, failing to live out the Gospel’s call to love and serve others.

Real-Life Applications (Evangelism)

Evangelism isn’t a dirty word; it’s a heartfelt invitation to share the love and hope found in our faith. I would like to write more about this in another article. However, balancing our call to justice work with worship and spiritual life is essential, as they are all integral aspects of our mission in the United Church of Christ.

Community Engagement, Prayer, and Worship: Many churches find that organizing regular food drives to support local food banks is an effective way to serve their community. These drives provide much-needed resources for food banks, which in turn help families in need. To integrate spirituality, each food drive can start and end with a short prayer, led by a volunteer or one of the participants. Incorporating moments of worship, such as singing a hymn together or sharing a scripture about generosity and caring for the hungry, can also deepen the connection between giving and faith. This practice grounds the act of giving in faith and emphasizes the importance of compassion and sharing God’s blessings with others. By intertwining justice work with moments of prayer and worship, churches reinforce the message that acts of service are expressions of spiritual commitment.

Education, Meditation, and Worship: Churches offer educational programs that address social justice issues, ensuring these sessions begin and end with meditation or prayer. Including moments of worship, such as reflective songs or responsive readings, can help participants connect their learning and activism with their spiritual growth. This practice, as seen in many series on racial justice, helps participants connect their learning and activism with their spiritual growth. This echoes the instruction in James 1:22, “Do not merely listen to the word, and so deceive yourselves. Do what it says.” Education coupled with worship encourages us to be doers of the word.

Personal Balance: On a personal level, it’s crucial to integrate justice, worship, and spirituality into daily life. Many people find that setting aside time each morning for scripture reading, meditation, and worship helps them approach justice work with a spirit of compassion and humility. Additionally, engaging in justice work with a prayerful and worshipful heart transforms tasks from burdensome duties into acts of devotion. Colossians 3:17 reminds us, “And whatever you do, whether in word or deed, do it all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him.” This scripture encourages us to integrate our faith into every action, making our justice work an extension of our worship.

The Wisdom of Spiritual Leaders

Howard Thurman, a prominent theologian and civil rights leader, often emphasized the critical need for maintaining a deep spiritual life while engaging in social activism. He believed that neglecting one’s spiritual foundations could lead to a disconnection from the very essence that drives meaningful and sustainable social change. Thurman’s writings, such as “Meditations of the Heart” and “Jesus and the Disinherited,” highlight how spiritual discipline and inner reflection are essential for those involved in justice work, ensuring their actions remain rooted in a profound sense of purpose and humanity.

Henri Nouwen, a Catholic priest and theologian, emphasized the necessity of balancing activism with times of prayer and reflection. He argues that without returning to a quiet place of contemplation, our actions risk losing their grounding in God’s love and can become self-serving and disconnected from their true purpose. Nouwen’s extensive writings, such as those found in “The Way of the Heart” and “Out of Solitude,” highlight the importance of integrating inner spiritual practices with outward actions to maintain a deep connection with God and ensure our activism remains aligned with divine love and purpose.

Parker Palmer, a noted Quaker author and educator, emphasizes the necessity of balancing activism with times of rest and reflection to maintain a connection with one’s inner light. He argues that true social change arises from a deep spiritual grounding. In his book “A Hidden Wholeness,” Palmer highlights that living with wholeheartedness requires integrating our inner spiritual practices with our outward actions. He states, “The power for authentic leadership is found not in external arrangements, but in the human heart” (Palmer, 2009). This underscores the importance of inner reflection and grounding in sustaining meaningful and effective social change.

Balancing justice work, worship, and spirituality requires intentionality. As members of the Southwest Conference, let us embrace this threefold calling. Let us act justly, love mercy, and walk humbly with our God, knowing that our work for justice is deeply rooted in our spiritual life and worship. By doing so, we truly embody what it means to be the church in our world today.

Think about what you believe. Then see if you believe what you think.

by Rev. James Briney

I like what Jesus did. He noticed what was going on for others, did what he could and moved on. Jesus did what he did as a matter of faith. He lived for what he believed and he died for what he believed. But his last words indicate that he did not know if it was worth it: “My God why have you forsaken me.” Jesus understood that when you know the right thing to do, but are not certain of the outcome, do it anyway. That’s all any of us can do.

A challenge of ministry is the futility of it all. If it weren’t for so darn many flawed human beings, clergy would be out of business. More congregations would be extinct and forming community would be left to amateurs. Professionally—or not—the key is to minister. Show up. Be present. Be in the practice of ministry, not the ministerial business.

The major religions of the world have one thing in common. No one knows anything. Religious practices are based on faith and belief, not proof and knowledge. We all are just trying to figure out where we come from, why we are here, and where we are going. The best we can do is employ words and symbols to express such concerns.

I like who Jesus was, and is. He still is, and will continue to be, for as long as he is remembered, thought about, and talked about. Jesus was anointed as the messiah by those who recognized him as the King of Kings, the Prince of Peace, the Lord of Lords, and the Son of God; not the Caesars, who claimed those titles for themselves.

When Jesus was confronted by the law-givers, who were out to do him in, he did not say he was the ‘only’ way to be in relationship with God. Jesus said: “I am the way.” I take that to mean, I am the way to be. Be the way I am.

Jesus is not some sort of magic man who did things we can’t do. He was not being modest when he said: “You will do greater things than I.” Jesus understood, hoped for, and trusted that every person is capable of being and becoming the soul that God intends for them to be.

It is tempting to give up on humanity, or to blame God in the context of overwhelming tragedies, horrors, and sorrows. It is seductive to settle for a life of distractions that prevent us from thinking about that which matters most.

I am a person of faith. I believe there is more to life than life itself, perhaps experienced in the afterlife as manifestations of consciousness and energy. I once told an atheist who ridiculed my faith, to try to be gracious should he meet God face to face.

God has given all of Creation everything we need. Everything in this world that is wrong, unfair, hostile, and unjust is on us. Trust the Spirit that is Holy within you. All that you experience and all that you do is part of the Eternal.

There is no my god, your god, or our god. There is one God, by a variety of names. The Church is a flawed institution, not the Kingdom of God. Individuals that understand the basics, fundamentals, and particulars of their own faith—and the faith of others—give me some hope.

It’s scary to contemplate our fate and to wonder where we came from, why we are here and where we are going. But do it anyway. When you are satisfied that you have all the answers start over. Think about what you believe. Then see if you believe what you think.

Over 25 years of ordained ministry the Reverend James Briney served congregations in Indiana, Michigan, Wisconsin, and Arizona. Early on, Jim earned degrees in Philosophy and Theology. He is retired and living in Oro Valley. (Photo by: Lou Waters.)

The Little Church That Could

by Rev. Tina Campbell

I told them I wasn’t a parish pastor. My first gig was on the streets of the Southside of Chicago and I did no parish field work in seminary. I prayed in long houses in British Columbia and was perfectly at home inside a maximum security prison unit. Addicts and inmates, dying people and rebellious teenagers didn’t daunt me, but I certainly wasn’t a parish pastor. This is not to say that I am without faith. The kind of ministry I have experienced is not for the faint of heart. So ok…I’ll strike a deal. I’ll come and preach and then go home. They agreed to that. Then I watched them.

They did everything at the church. They cleaned the bathrooms. They replaced toilets. They brought food. They prepared the bulletins. There was a dog who sat in the front pew and seemed to listen to my sermons. There was a piano player who could make all my favorite songs fill the sanctuary with joy. They never said, “We’ve done enough.” They always said, “How can I help?” They never said, “I’m too busy.” They always said, “I’ll do that right away.” They didn’t just talk about the unhoused in our downtown Phoenix community, they showed up in person to visit with them. They made hundreds of blankets for our asylum seeking neighbors in Mexico and convinced non-church community members to bring carloads of food to place at our altar before distribution to local food banks. The men clean up the kitchen. They know stuff about addiction, incarceration, poverty, LBGTQ issues and loss.. They’re even fun, and they laugh and tease one another. They recently raised thousands of dollars to provide heat relief during our desert climate crisis.

After awhile, I started looking at their dear faces from the pulpit, and I realized that I loved them, especially the dog. It seems I’m a parish pastor after all. God certainly has a wild sense of humor.

I will not be among the hand wringers who prophesize the demise of the Christian church. I believe our strength is not in numbers, but in bold faith put into action. If we focus on acting out the Good News of the all inclusive Gospel, we can’t go wrong. Black Mountain United Church of Christ has taught me that. I say this with good authority. After all, I’m a parish pastor.

The Reverend Dr. Kristina Campbell

Transitional Minister Black Mountain United Church of Christ

Scottsdale, Arizona

Grieving Well

by Rev. Lynne Hinton, Conference Director, New Mexico Conference of Churches

At a worship service a couple of weeks ago at St. John’s UMC in Albuquerque, visiting preacher Rev. Scott Carpenter spoke about five tasks churches need to accomplish in order to thrive. The first task was to grieve well.

This focus on grief as the first task for a faith community to grow strong surprised me. Having been a hospice chaplain for years, I spend a lot of time and thought regarding grief, regarding loss. I understand the need to honor grief but I had never seriously considered it as a necessary function for communities of faith to thrive. And yet, grief is necessary to move forward. And if we’ve ever needed to grieve in churches, it’s now.

Over 600,000 persons have died in our country from Covid 19. Businesses have closed. Churches have had to shut their doors permanently. Dreams have ended. Suicides and mental illness emergencies are on the rise. And in poorer countries, the pandemic continues to ravage entire populations. We need to grieve what has been lost, what we have lost.

In [his book] RealLivePreacher.com, Pastor Gordon Atkinson writes about going to a mountain church in Colorado as part of his annual family vacation. He goes to the little community church alone and he goes to weep.

He writes, “I cry in their church because I can’t cry in my own. I’m not suggesting that we discourage crying at our church. I’m saying I am not ABLE to cry there. Being in charge shuts something down in me, I think. So every summer in Creede I unpack a year’s worth of sorrow, joy, and wonder.

“I cry in church because it is my time to be served. I’m like the woman who prepares the meals for her family each day. One day she comes home, and her children have prepared a meal for her. She bursts into tears because it’s her turn to receive. It doesn’t mean she wants to stop cooking. It’s just nice that it’s her turn.

“I cry for those reasons, but mostly I cry because at Creede Community Church I can see the truth. Sitting in that simple pew on the back row, I see the Church Universal in all her glory and silliness. The truth is, we are not sophisticated at all. We are nothing more than children, sticking our drawings to the fridge with tiny magnets, offering our best to the heavens on a wing and a prayer. We are precious, but perhaps only in His sight.

“I think messy little boys and girls praying in church must be irresistible to God. When God slows down and licks his fingers to slick down my cowlick, I catch a fleeting glimpse of the hem of his robe.

“And a glimpse is more than enough for me.

“That is the moment of true worship, and I always seem to find it in Creede.

“And in that moment, I cry from pure joy and relief.”

Do you have a place where you can weep? Do you have time set aside in your life to mourn your losses, honor the sorrow you carry, and feel free to let your emotions loose? And do you have a place where you receive, a place where you don’t have to be the faith leader or the pastor holding it together, a place where you can be served and know the loving presence of God?

My hope, of course, is that you do and that you have been there this year, that you have wept in sorrow and relief, and that you have been received, and ultimately that you have known joy. That is my hope for us all.

You are the light of the world.

Finding Happiness

by Abigail Conley

In the Spring 2018 semester, Yale launched their most popular course ever, “Psychology and the Good Life.” It was a course on happiness, and enrollment skyrocketed. A quarter of Yale students enrolled in the class, and the institution struggled to meet the demands from such a large enrollment. Dr. Laurie Santos developed the course to help address rising rates of depression, anxiety and stress among students. The course was so popular, it was soon launched on the online learning platform Coursera as “The Art of Happiness.”

I signed up for the class out of curiosity. It’s free unless you want the certificate of completion. Of course I wanted the certificate of completion, so I paid an extra $49 to get a piece of paper at the end. (Hey—maybe it counts for CEUs!) I should mention that I wasn’t particularly unhappy going in. Taking a class on happiness seems to imply that the student must be unhappy. I’m more of a taking-a-class-inherently-makes-me-happy person.

Within about 2 weeks of starting the class, I had one major take-away not named in the class: being part of a church will make you happier. It will make you happier according to science, not just some pastor. It will make you happier even though being the Church is hard right now. It’s hard as institutions struggle through the time before resurrection. It’s hard as we face what seem like insurmountable social justice issues. And yet, time and again, polls also report that people who are part of a faith community are happier and live longer than those who are not part of a faith community. Now there’s easily accessible data to name why.

Here are some of the things I learned will actually make you happier in a way that transforms your life:

Stop worrying about stuff.
Practice gratitude.
Meditate.
Be socially connected.
Keep a regular sleep schedule.

Most any of us who show up to church occasionally realize that church helps us cultivate all of those things. If you can walk or bike to church, you will manage to hit every single thing that will make you happier, clinically speaking.

I preach often about the gifts of the church, the Christian community gathered. I love the story of Pentecost, when the Holy Spirit becomes a normal, expected presence with the gathered church. That presence is a break from the occasional and extraordinary presence with the prophets, when a word from the Lord might be rare.

And yet, it is a little shocking to be reminded that the church has a profound gift to offer just by existing like most of our churches do. We pass an offering plate each week and say, “You have enough to give away. Trust us.” We take time to name what is good and what is difficult and hold it in a space with other people. We do it on a day traditionally known as Sabbath, and keep saying that holding space for rest matters. And even when we gather with people who are so very different from us, we find people who will check in on us and love us and show up in wonderfully unexpected places.

In this class, we were also challenged to take on one of these habits. For success, we were even asked to tell someone else our goal. It was for a finite period, with a clinical measure of success before and after. Part of the point is that it’s so difficult to make a significant change like the things named. We don’t naturally choose what is good for us. Again, not really a surprise to church people.

I am reminded that one of the most profound gifts of all is that the Church, with all its imperfections, keeps going along, reminding us to worry less about our stuff, to be grateful, to pray, to honor Sabbath, to show up—even if it’s just to be together. In our case, it is not an art that one person cultivates, but a faith we continue to hold onto for the promise of something better for our world. Happiness is only the tip of the iceberg.

Pastors Cover the Who, What and Why; Spiritual Directors cover the How

by Teresa Blythe

As the last great generalists in our increasingly niche economy, pastors do a lot and they do it well. They preach the good news; advocate for a more just society; cast a vision for their congregation; and encourage Christians to live and work in community.

Pastors cover the “who, what and why” of the Christian faith. But where it breaks down for so many in the pews is the “how.” People want to know what it means in this 21st century world to be a Jesus follower. People want to know how to pray in their daily lives and how to apply their faith to complicated and important situations they face.

How do I do what the pastor is talking about?

The question of “how do I live out this faith I’m hearing about at church?” is the terrain of the trained and experienced spiritual director. Which is why I am encouraging church leaders—pastors, Christian educators, council moderators, church musicians and worship planners—to warm up to a local spiritual director for support, encouragement and help with discernment. Church leaders and spiritual directors can work together to fill in gaps between theology and practice.

Sermons only go so far

I remember once hearing a beautiful sermon in a progressive church about the importance of being in close, personal relationship with Jesus. (Yes the preacher defied the convention of the day by actually talking about getting to know Jesus personally). It was inspiring but she failed to address how this relationship is built. But she’s not the only one guilty. I recall as a child in a conservative Christian church that the only “how” we were given was one prayer we needed to pray to be close to Jesus.

How does a thinking person in the 21st century get to know a spiritual figure from the first century? Spiritual directors will tell you it’s by finding inner stillness within yourself (meditation), spending time in a prayer practice that fits for your personality, dialoguing with Jesus (or another spiritual figure) in your journal, putting yourself imaginatively in a scripture setting, walking a labyrinth, spending time in nature, paying attention to your dreams, figuring out who Jesus is for you, and …..well the list goes on and on. It’s different for every person because we are all made so differently.

Bridging the Gap

Some churches understand this gap between what is taught and what is practiced. They are the ones who have incorporated spiritual formation training for adult members so that this bridge can be built in community. If this is something your church would like to explore, a spiritual director would be the perfect consultant, educator or assistant to get a program going.

There are times, also, that individuals need private and confidential assistance. Pastors know who these people are because they come to their offices frequently for counseling. When the questions are of a spiritual nature or hover around practical theology, a referral to spiritual direction can be helpful. While most spiritual directors are fee-based, churches can usually work out arrangements where people who cannot pay may still receive at least a few sessions of spiritual direction.

Getting down to business

So find a spiritual director in your area and start the conversation! How can we help our people find the spiritual practice that will sustain them beyond Sunday worship? How can we assist our members in discerning where God is leading them in their everyday lives? How can we become more in touch with the movement of the Spirit within this congregation?

Let’s make sure we give the “how” of faithful living as much energy as the who, what and why.

Contact information

To find a spiritual director in the Southwest Conference of the UCC, check out this webpage. There are listings of spiritual directors at the website for Spiritual Directors International. For more about spiritual direction as I practice it, please check out my website and the Phoenix Center for Spiritual Direction.

Teresa Blythe is the founder of the Phoenix Center for Spiritual Direction at First UCC in Phoenix. She is a longtime spiritual director for individuals, groups and organizations and is Director of the Hesychia School of Spiritual Direction at the Redemptorist Renewal Center in Tucson. Teresa is author of the book 50 Ways to Pray and the Patheos blog Spiritual Direction 101.

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.

The Tyranny of Sunday

by Karen Richter

I was sharing work-related woes with a friend the other day. He was relating how there are some in his organization who have a penchant for making things more complicated than they need to be. Sometimes, he noted, work expands to fit the time available and some of us tend to be mesmerized by complexity.

“Your office needs a Sunday,” I told him.

Huh?

Here’s a glimpse into church life: Sunday comes after 6 days of non-Sundays every single week. Let’s say your church has a great Sunday: the pews are full, the offering basket is full too. The message is inspiring; the choir knocks it out of the park. At coffee hour, conversation is lively and welcoming.

Awesome. Now do it again in 6 days.

Let’s say, conversely, that Sunday doesn’t go so well. It’s a holiday weekend and lots of people are elsewhere. The microphone makes crazy noises; the coffee is burned. Someone forgets to grab the bread for communion and the congregation sings flat.

Awesome. Now do better in 6 days.

What I call ‘the tyranny of Sunday’ is this: whether things are good or bad, you get another chance the very next week. Buckle up, buttercups! At my friend’s workplace, they seemed to need the time crunch of a metaphorical Sunday to keep projects moving forward. Sunday is a cure for beleaguered decision-making, perfectionism, and micro-management.

This is the way calendars work, of course. But it makes for good theology.

The pressure is on! Every week, church clergy and staff and musicians and volunteers strive to put together a meaningful experience of connection to one another, connection to our lived experience, and connection to the Mystery we call God. People depend on their church family, and this work matters.
But hey, no pressure! We never know what someone brings with them on Sunday. We can’t foresee what might be touching or meaningful to the people in the pews. We can’t bat 1000 every week, so we do our best and leave the results in God’s hands.
The consistency of weekly worship guides us through the liturgical seasons. The combination of regular gatherings and the poles of the Church year (Lent/Easter and Advent/Christmas) promote balance and growth.
A regular day is okay! I’m sometimes astounded when I recall that I really enjoyed the sermon on a particular Sunday, but now I can’t remember the topic. Being together as a worshiping community is often enough. Lifetimes are made from regular days and vibrant active churches are made from regular Sundays.

Maybe other weekly rituals and tasks work the same way. If you’re a Saturday Night Live cast member, let me know your thoughts.

Take care, everyone. See you… on Sunday.

Theology of the Nursery

by Karen Richter

This blog is dedicated to all church nursery staff and volunteers! You too are loved!

Where is faith birthed?

What early experiences correlate to a lifetime of prayer and service?

What opportunities are we overlooking or missing or failing to maximize for congregational vitality?

These are the questions that occupy me, especially on my commute to and from Shadow Rock UCC. As a parent and as a church staffer in the area of faith formation, these are crucial inquiries.

A couple of years ago, we were struggling with a mid-week after-school program. So many families couldn’t commit to regular attendance, and adult volunteers available 4 pm to 6 pm on a Wednesday were hard to find. For a time, we had a low-key program with several activity centers that required minimal adult direction. Different and often more cynical questions were asked: are social and play-oriented activities worth investing in? what kinds of experiences do kids need in the midst of the school week? where’s the proper balance between relationship-building and content for children’s faith programming?

In the end, we discontinued the program, but the period of questioning bore fruit for me. A vision for what children must experience in their spiritual community emerged: Church is where people love me.

I’ll say it again: Church is where people love me.

Church is where I am LOVED.

These wacky people really care about me!

When my teenage son was a wee Cub Scout, he got a little note from a church member congratulating him on a successful scout food drive. Under her signed name, she wrote (one of the church people you probably don’t really know). When I asked him about it, he said, “Of course I know who that is. She says hello to me every week.”

All of the life of faith, all service and care of people and creation, and all growth in faith, understanding and spirituality – the whole of what we do! – hang on this kind of experience. There will be time later to learn Psalm 23 and the Beatitudes, time for skits about Jesus calling the fishermen, even time for wrestling with Romans chapter 8.

But it starts in the nursery. The warm safety of the place, the gentle hands of nursery workers and volunteers, the opportunity to make connections and first friendships… for babies and toddlers, it’s their first Sunday learning.

So this week, show some appreciation and gratitude to those people who make this wonderment happen. Hug a nursery person. They might be a little sticky (or worse!), but it’s worth it.

I Just Wanted to Tell You Something

by Davin Franklin-Hicks

We lost a friend. And it’s all I can think about. When you lose someone you remember the most random things about them.

Sitting at IHOP hearing a crazy story that had us exchanging looks like “What the…”

Him vaping. Sitting outside vaping. Letting me try it and a fit of laughter when he saw the look on my face. He literally had the biggest tank for his vape. And the strongest dose of nicotine. Endless plumes of smoke.

When he learned I was trans he had this puzzled expression on his face. We were hanging out and I could tell he had questions. I prepared for the normal questions that often happen in social situations when folks discover I am trans, mostly about genitals. I said he could ask me anything. Ready for his question? “Wanna arm wrestle?” And that was it. Nothing more required to continue our connection.

Friendship as usual.

I was supposed to marry him and his wife. He told me he really needed me to show at their shower. It was important to him. Being the over-scheduled jerk that I am, I completely forgot and took my nephews to see Peter Pan. You know, posted pics on Facebook. Which he saw. At the shower. I did not attend. When I realized it I felt awful!

The next time I saw him I apologized profusely and his response “Oh, I am done hating you. I am back to loving you. Jerk.” And then the smile.

Ben introduced me to the Desiderata. And I read it all the time.

He gave me big hugs.

And I desperately want his big hug right now, as I grieve the loss of an arm wrestling, life affirming, forgiveness giving friend.

I lost the person who told me I need to get a suit because I was going to go to a lot of weddings and a lot of funerals. I never thought I would be attending his. Please read and share in honor of my dear friend who died this week at the age of 31.

[Editor’s note: The article below was originally published on this blog October 12, 2015.]

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I just wanted to tell you something. I think it’s time that I did.
I’m 37 when I write this.
I’ve known a lot of people who have died.
I’ve never been to war.
I don’t live in a prolific crime area.
I don’t work in a hospice. I don’t spend time in places where one would expect the end result to be death. Yet I have known a lot of people who have died.

“Get a suit. You are going to go to a lot of weddings and a lot of funerals.” Someone said this to me in 2013 when I admitted I had a problem with drugs and alcohol and wanted a different path. I spend time in places where one would hope the end result to be extension of life. Yet, I know a lot of people who have died.

What’s more is I have known a lot of people who have died recently. Their families are still reeling, recounting lost moments, angry conversations, desperate pleas, wishing they had done things differently. Their friends are still tearing up with the thought, “I can’t believe you are gone.” Their voice still hangs in the part of the brain where one can swear they JUST HEARD IT. It’s fresh grief because they just died last month, even the last week of the last month. It is likely going to happen today where I live that someone who is attempting to alleviate the endless aching of deep, deep soul pain will use the solution that always worked before and this time it will kill them.

This is nothing new. As long as there has been access to life threatening mind-altering drugs, people have used them and people have died. There is nothing new under the sun. Yet, I can still hear their laugh and their intention to stop as they wished for something better so I think I need to tell you a few things that will make me feel really vulnerable. I do feel vulnerable in this writing, but I also feel called so, here it goes…

I was different in my faith tradition and spiritual practice when I was younger. I was a super, uber born-again, biblical literalism Christian as a teen with values of complete abstinence from drugs and alcohol. I took myself to church when my friends were taking themselves to parties. I was scared of drugs and alcohol. I had lived experience of addiction from adults in my life since I was very young and I desperately wanted a life where none of that existed. I sought after a life where none of that existed.Though my values and my attempts at daily living were to walk away from any situation where drugs and alcohol were involved, there was also a deep aching for me where my sexuality and gender identity were concerned. Since this did not match the teachings and beliefs the broader church that I subscribed to at the time held, I very much felt intense shame and pain, constant preparation for rejection, a feeling of otherness at a level that sometimes relegated me to exist alone and isolated in my room, feeling desperate for love. It also led me to thinking of dying nearly all the time until I was 21. I am a queer person and transgender and this pain is a common story. My story is one of so many.

This pain accompanied me. One day, I tried alcohol. Hello, sweet relief! No pain, no worry, no fear. And the people I drank with did not care one bit that being a girl and female didn’t ever fit for me, but I was super glad it fit for them: “Hey girl, how you doing? Come here often?” I could tell the truth about the person I was and they did not reject me. With that first drink, my internal and external world had congruency. So I sought that moment over the next many years, again and again and again. Richard Rohr poses that the only reason we do something again is that the last time we did it, it wasn’t entirely satisfying. We were left wanting. The alcohol that flowed into places never touched before and met a need I never knew could be met before, awakened a wanting that would never leave. I wanted to feel that way forever and ever and ever. Amen.

I also did not want that addiction thing I grew up despising. The loss of control for me was gradual. I had dreams, I had wishes, I had hopes and even though I found sweet surrender in alcohol, it took some time for that to become my focus. It was gradual, seductive and debilitating. Without too many details, this ebb and flow of trying to be in the world and follow dreams, live values, be authentic, seek spirit while also trying to meet this ever growing need that took me further away from everything that was life-giving became a tsunami of pain, loss and certain death. I expedited this when I discovered opiates.

People often die when they combine opiates and alcohol. This combination is one of the deadliest in the world. They may not die the first time, often not the second, but if it continues, they will die at a higher rate than either alone. I know that. The reason I know that is that when all of this was happening in my life, I worked professionally as someone trying to help people who were in addiction and asking for help. It is my craft and my career. Those words, on paper, in front of me now, seem ridiculous. I was drowning trying to help those drowning. Here’s the thing, though, I didn’t know I was drowning. That’s the trickiness of this whole painful disease: you often don’t know you have it until it nearly kills you. And I thought I was breathing fine as the tsunami overtook me.

I knew if I took these pills and I drank, I could die. I didn’t consciously want to die. I had developed a lot to live for. There was incredible pain deep within that beckoned me to consider death, but I wasn’t aware of it most days. I drank and I took those pills. A few things led me to ask for help. We got that alcohol thing in check. That just freed me, though, to really start taking those pills. And I was addicted to opiates in nearly no time at all.

There are stages of addiction. It is a deadly disease, once activated, it often ends in death, but along the way, it separates the sufferer from experiencing anything loving and life-giving at all. It depletes the world from light; darkness overtakes everything in its final stages. What’s so awful, though, what’s so incredible soul wrenching, is when it started, I felt like I had finally found light. Isn’t that the worst thing ever? I finally felt peace. Ease. I felt equanimity, truly. I feel sacrilegious for that statement since there is nothing I know more soul stealing than addiction, but it finally gave me that “We are meant to love and be loved” awareness that overtook everything bad. And then it immediately started killing me.

Opiate addiction is its own animal in so many ways. I have a teacher in my life, Dr. Wen Cai, an expert in the field, who gives an amazing talk about opiate addiction I have listened to a number of times. One of the things he talks about is viewing this as the disease that it is. He describes opiate addiction as the cancer of addiction. People are dying at an alarming rate if it is not interrupted. The Centers for Disease Control (CDC) reports that every day in the United States 44 people die from prescription opioid overdose. Add another 21 people who die every day due to heroin overdose. Put another way to help us fully understand this magnitude, there are now more deaths from opiate overdose than all motor vehicle accidents and the numbers are growing. And how do we fare in Arizona? Arizona is ranked in the top 10 states struggling with this epidemic.

When someone activates the disease of addiction with their first use, opiates commonly administered the first time in pill form, they are stepping into a life and death situation. It’s a gamble every time a person uses. That alone is awful. You know what makes it even worse? The person putting that pill to their lips for the first time is often a teenager wondering what this thing their loved one has been taking feels like. And they just activated a disease that could have them dead before they ever have a chance to live.

I’m 37 when I write this and I have a full life expectancy because my disease, for all intents and purposes, is in remission due to the work I do daily to maintain recovery. If I were to use again, I would be back in the gamble of life and death.

I have known a lot of people who have died and I desperately want that reality to change. It is the work of the church with extravagant welcome to consider our role in addressing what the CDC has described as the worst outbreak of opiate and heroin addiction in the history of the world. This submission to you is just a start for a conversation I hope will be very much ongoing.

I just wanted to tell you something. I have the disease of addiction and I have hope.