“Church is Boring”

Well, yes it is sometimes. Entered into with a spirit of willingness and openness, time in church can mean that the spirit of God bores a hole all the way into the center of our beings.

Oh—perhaps you didn’t mean THAT kind of “bore” with the phrase “church is boring.” Instead it meant, “I’m not being entertained in church.”

Hmmm—definitely truth there as well. Although some churches do have “entertaining” worship services, the church really isn’t in the entertainment business. It’s in the transformation business. It’s in the reconciliation business. It’s in the forgiveness business.

At the basic level, “church” is a group of people who come together to learn more about God and to encourage each other to grow in holiness. Holiness simply means that we become more and more willing to live as God intended us to live: aware of God’s grace which is given freely yet costs so much, exercising our talents, receiving disappointments and tough times with hopeful hearts, forgiving others, wrapping ourselves and those around us in love, actively seeking the well-being of the created world. The transformative work of holiness is boring indeed. It digs huge holes into most our preconceived notions about what life really is about.

In most churches, people sing songs together because there is something about music that helps us to get beyond ourselves for a while. Some of this music is ancient and unfamiliar and boring but the act of at least trying to sing and hear the words gives them an opportunity to bore into our minds and thoughts.

In most churches, portions of the Bible are read aloud. These readings help us enter the lives of the people who have sought from the beginning of recorded history to find and experience God. As we enter into their lives, we find a place to find direction for our own experiences of God. Sometimes, people fall asleep while the Bible is being read—but those words while boring can so beautifully bore into the soul nonetheless.

In most churches, people spend some time in prayer. This time helps us to stop just for a while and really concentrate on both talking to God and hearing from God. The action of prayer can be a boringly mysterious experience that sometimes leads us to fall into a holy sleep and sometimes leaves us exhilarated by concentrated attention on the Holy One.

In most churches, there is an opportunity to give money. This teaches us that life is much more than what we have—it is also found in what we give. It becomes a physical act that mirrors a spiritual reality: because we are blessed, we have a responsibility to be a blessing. The boring time when plates are being passed around the gathering will often bore into our wallets as we consider both our willingness and unwillingness to give freely.

In most churches, there is a message or sermon or meditation offered by the pastor or another person who has spent disciplined time learning the ways of God and the words of the Bible. This is done to offer instruction and encouragement. Learning about God is a life-long process, and learning to be a Christian and live like a Christian is also a life-long process. This time of instruction and encouragement offers ideas and hope that a person can take home and ponder and seek to live from. Learning to be a Christian is no different than learning any challenging skill or area of knowledge: it takes discipline and work and good instruction and much, much practice. Yes, sometimes people fall asleep while listening to those frequently boring messages—but they may bore into the soul nonetheless.

In most churches, there are multiple opportunities for service. These opportunities give people a chance to get to know one another and work together and give good away to the people around them. So as we boringly pick up trash and feed the hungry and clothe the naked and visit the prisoner and heal the sick, we find that such acts bore deep within and find a well of gratefulness and renewed energy.

In most churches, there are opportunities to receive what are sometimes called “sacraments”—a word that suggests a special meaning to what is taking place. The most common sacrament is the experience of communion, where we remember in special ways the gift that Jesus gave to us when freely giving himself for all. This is a focused time to be still and simply receive the gift; to be quietly bored and let our minds wander with contemplation of things generally ignored.

In most churches, there is a time to talk about or think about the places where we don’t measure up. The church word for this is “confession,” which means to agree with God about these things. This time is not punitive, but refreshing. It gives needed space to be honest about ourselves and to receive the power from God to start again—as many times as is needed. Confession, honestly practices, is rarely boring and also overwhelmingly boring as light is shed on areas before kept dark and hidden.

In most churches, there is a time to greet people sitting nearby. This time is a reminder that we are all in this together. We are not alone—and there is great comfort in this knowledge. It is a boring routine of shaking hands and saying “hello” and “welcome” except when you are feeling exceptionally lonely and then the boring routine bores new hope and healing into your loneliness.

In most churches, many meals are eaten together. It’s a boring routine of cooking, serving, standing in line to get food, sitting with unfamiliar people, and cleaning up afterward. Those times of communal dining bore warmth into our lives because shared food means shared lives and shared lives mean a community strong enough to withstand any trials coming our way.

Yes, church is boring. Thank you, Jesus, for boring your way into my life and giving to me the words of life.

White As Snow

For those of us who rarely see snow, the sight of the huge flakes gently falling to the ground and covering everything with pristine white fills us with awe. Things formerly nondescript or even ugly to the sight become beautiful, transformed by the layer of fluff. Chain-link fences turn into fine lace, tree limbs bend as though offering their load of snow as a gracious gift, free to the taker. When the snow falls heaviest, sounds are muffled, a deep quiet permeates space and time. Yes, all is exquisitely beautiful, hushed, transformed, shining clean. Children rush out to embrace it; adults leave being “sensible” behind and go out and walk and rejoice in it.

For this moment, the snowfall shows the exquisiteness of the grace of God. When God views us through the eyes of forgiving and redeeming grace, God also sees us as pristine, clean, beautiful, transformed. All darkness has been wiped away, all those times when we’ve chosen the dark, distorted, unholy, non-God ways have disappeared in the moment of grace.

Of course, what happens after the initial beautiful transformation can be challenging: traffic snarls, planes delayed, animals suffering, events cancelled. Here in Texas, the snow will melt quickly, and in days or even hours, the traces of whiteness will disappear. But in much colder climates, the snow stays. And stays. And stays. And another transformation takes place—one not nearly so lovely.

I used to work in Chicago—actually commuted there from Wichita Falls, TX. After flying into O’Hare, a flight often delayed by snowstorms in the winter, I would either take the train and bus (if I were feeling frugal—cost $1.25) or taxi (if I were feeling indulgent—cost $25) to my place of employment in an older and heavily populated section of Chicago. Occasionally, I’d get there just in time to see the pristine white cover everything. However, it was more likely that I’d be there several days after a snowstorm. Things didn’t melt there as they do here. Especially deep into winter, there would be huge piles of snow heaped on edges of the sidewalks, left by the snow plows. It would take only a short time after a snow for those piles of snow to turn dark and ugly, splashed by the spray from cars and buses, melting slightly and then freezing again, eventually turning into rocks of dirty and slippery ice, treacherous to walk on and unpleasing to the sight. Spring weather becomes especially welcome as warmer rains and temperatures melted those disturbing reminders of what had been beautiful snow.

And that also is the nature of life with God. God’s grace does transform us into people of light and goodness. We rejoice in that transformation, but afterward the hard work continues to live as transformed people. We will get splashed by dirty water mixed with gritty sand. Pockets of seemingly impenetrable ice form in our hearts as we cling to habits that harm our souls. Yet spring rains—and for us in the south, warm winter sunshine—will come and melt that ice away.

The natural world has so much to teach us about the nature of God. Unending grace, sustaining us through unending trials, offering moments of exquisite sweetness and hope for the future. Thank You, God.

A Long Journey Nearly Over

On Monday, February 25, I met with members of the Board of Ordained Ministry of the United Methodist Church for a morning of interviews. In preparation for this time, I had written a definitive statement of my systematic theology, a defense of the sacraments, my understanding of an inclusive church and ministry, and my willingness to enter into a life of itinerant ministry, serving wherever the Bishop and Cabinet deem appropriate at any given time. I turned in two recorded sermons and the manuscripts of those sermons. I wrote an original Bible study. All this was accompanied by an evaluation from a church committee called the Lay Evaluation Committee who had the responsibility to carefully observe my ministry and offer helpful feedback and correction, a report from a group of other clergy who paid a site visit to the church and met with some of the people serving in leadership roles, another evaluation by a mentor pastor with whom I have met monthly for three years, a report from the convener of a Covenant Group with whom I had also met with monthly for three years, the results of a psychological exam, a medical exam and a background check, and a letter of recommendation by my District Superintendent.

Those doing the interviews had carefully read this paperwork and listened to the sermons. They had prepared a list of questions for me to answer, but I did not know what those questions would be until actually entering the rooms where three teams did the interviews. The questions were probing and thoughtful. They asked for clarity on several areas where I had not expressed myself clearly. Without a doubt, they wanted me to succeed and gave help where they could.

And then we waited. There were three of us being interviewed that morning. We sat in a beautiful, sunny room at the Prothro Center at Lake Texoma, supported by colleagues and sustained by refreshments. We talked of anything we could think of, except how long it was taking the committee to make the decisions. Nearly two hours later, each of us was fetched by a host who walked us in silence to the building where the interviews had been held. We were ushered into separate rooms and there, for the three of us, each team stood and clapped for us, and then offered individual words of encouragement and affirmation followed by prayer and hugs all around. Such relief—and yes, tears filled my eyes.

Not all of us made it. I have just finished the final three years of a nearly ten year journey. These last three years were a probationary process called the “residency program.” Fourteen entered it together, having been commissioned in June, 2005. Three dropped quickly for personal and heartbreaking reasons. Two were told earlier that they would have to repeat the residency and were not eligible for interviews, and another was delayed for educational reasons. Two more didn’t get past the interviews—they were “continued” and will be given instructions for necessary correction and growth and another opportunity next year. And so we are now seven. Seven happy people, yet our happiness is tinged with sadness and concern for our colleagues.

Clearly, this is a complex process. For good reasons, the United Methodist Church wants to make sure that their clergy are people of both character and competence. Clergy orders should be free of sexual scandals, and there have been too many of them exposed in the last few years. Pastoring churches takes special gifts, a lot of endurance, much faith, and multiple skills. Not to mention a willingness to spend years getting credentials and not seeing much financial reward for all those years of education. Yet to those of us who are called to this life, there is no other life that will do. This is it, and we know it. In that knowing, there is much, much joy.

Thank you for walking through this with me. I’m truly grateful and full of resurrection hope. Thanks be to God.

Medicine Cabinet Discernment

"I can always tell the state of someone's soul by examining the medicine cabinet. And it's always easy to take a peek when I visit a house. A well-kept medicine cabinet is a well-kept person--such a one can be trusted."

“I can always tell the state of someone’s soul by seeing how well that person cares for the family pet. Ten minutes a day is the absolute minimum that must be spent on grooming the animal. If that is not done, there is something very wrong with the person’s soul and that person is not worthy of my trust.”

“Let me look at a person’s desk or work space and I can tell you whether that person is emotionally and mentally healthy or not. The order in which that space is kept is a clear indicator of that person’s mental health and trustworthiness.”

Yes, all those statements above are actual quotes. In each case, they were given as an explanation of how they decided whether to trust another person or not. Medicine cabinets, pet care, work spaces—each an external sign that, according to these people, were sure indicators of inward health and wholeness and trustworthiness.

In each case, the individual was looking for an external indicator that would signal an internal state. Just about everyone I know has these indicators, although not everyone is bold enough to express them. People who reorganize homes for a living are sure they can see into a person’s heart by they state of order or disorder of their living spaces. People who love gardening can state positively that the state of one’s lawn or garden tells everything that needs to be said about the inhabitants of a residence. Fitness experts confidently assert that an unfit body clearly means that the person living in that unfit body has major character deficiencies. Fashion experts . . . well, you get the idea here. People use their areas of expertise as lenses to make decisions about the interior lives of those they see.

Why do we do this? Because we, unlike God who really can see deeply into the heart, really do have to depend upon the exterior for the majority of the decisions we make about other people. But the pressure!!!! If you and I don’t: clean out our medicine cabinets, keep well-groomed pets, have pristine work spaces, perfectly ordered houses, fertile and well-tended gardens, and superbly toned bodies then we are judged as less than fit, healthy, etc.

Worse, people who do manage to do all those things are judged as worthy of being trusted. And the very opposite may be true—for such people may have mastered the art of looking perfect on the outside, but may have neglected any real interior character formation. And character ultimately trumps all these outward signs. In the end, it is all about character, or soul health. The rest falls by the wayside.

I suggest to you that there is a far more reliable way to discern a person’s true character than by relying on some arbitrarily determined outward characteristic. It is this: Does the person hold to a single standard or a double standard? In other words, will that person (or will you) really treat others in the way he or she would like to be treated, or does the person (or you) make all excuses for his or her own behavior and decisions and permit no excuses for someone else’s behavior and decisions? The answers here are a lot more reliable in the long run than ones learned by snooping through medicine cabinets and sniffing pets.

The Time is NOW!

“Of course, spiritual things are important—but there are other things a lot more important at the moment.” “I’ll find time for God later. Right now, there are too many things pressuring me.” “My children will make their own faith decisions when they are adults. I don’t want to influence them one way or another.” “God can wait until I’ve had all the fun I want to have.”

As a pastor, I find these words both troubling—and common. I also know on a personal level how easy it is to put my own spiritual health on the back burner and deal with things that I know and that seem much more urgent and important now.

In the midst of pondering these things, a troubling biblical story is beginning to make sense to me. At one point, someone comes up to Jesus and says that he wants to follow him, but has to go and bury his father first. Jesus’ reply grates on modern ears, “Let the dead bury the dead,” he states. Or in a more modern version of the Bible, the words are translated, “First things first. Your business is life, not death. And life is urgent: Announce God's kingdom!”

These words seem unfeeling—how could Jesus even suggest that one should not deal with the death of a parent? Is that not important? But I’ve realized that when the man says, “First I have to bury my father,” what Jesus heard and understood is this, “I’ll follow you some day, after I’ve done all the usual things I want to do, including living at home until my father dies and I inherit my portion of the estate and am nice and comfortable. Then I’ll come.” In the first century world, a person “buried his father” by staying with the family until his father died a natural death—which could have been many, many years off. In other words, these are just first century words for “Of course, spiritual things are important—but there are other things a lot more important at the moment.”

Jesus’ reply really doesn’t give any wiggle room. The time is now, according to Jesus. The time is now to leave behind the old way of living—which is really death—and discover real life. Will you accept the invitation now into life—or just keep putting it off?

As a confirmed procrastinator in certain areas of my life, I know what an interesting habit that can be. Once I’ve decided that I will not deal with a particular issue when it first presents itself, I’ve discovered that the act of putting it off takes on a life of its own. I sit here looking at my desk—for two weeks, there was a piece of mail I needed badly to deal with. And after the first time I said, “I’ll get to it another time,” it seems like that was all I could do with it. I did finally open it, took care of it, and in the process, cleared a bit of a backload all around. But it fascinated me how easy it was just to keep saying, “There’s always tomorrow.”

I do believe God is infinitely patient with us, but I also believe we can get in such a habit of saying “no” to God that after a while we are unable to say “yes.” I also think much of this comes from a deep-seated fear in most of us that God is going to ask us to do something we really don’t want to do. Yet, Jesus’ words are intriguing—they are a call to move from death to life. But we often find that call so disturbing. I believe that many of us would rather stay in the death we know (“let me bury my father and live the life I’ve always known and then I’ll consider coming”) than move to a life that might be challenging and mysterious and different.

Among the things that had been sitting on my desk this week was a need to arrange for a post-Easter flight to Paris, France. My oldest son, his wife and their two small sons live there now and they’ve been giving multiple invitations for me to come for a visit. As much as I want to see them, I found myself reluctant to actually commit to a ticket. It would be easier to stay here (i.e., let me bury my father) and just continue to communicate with them by email, photos and video conversations. I’m not the world’s best traveler, and there is a big part of me that would rather just stay in what I know rather than explore the unknown.

But I heard the invitation, and finally booked the ticket. And then I thought, “ARRGGHH, I don’t speak French and can barely read it! I’ve never been to that airport in Paris! How will I find them when I get there? How will I know what to do in that different place?”

And then I received a sweet email from my son giving a careful description of what I’d see when I land in Paris and how to find him and the family in the airport. And, should I miss him, he gave further instruction as to how to reach his cell phone from a French phone. How like him to know that I should have such questions—and to quickly offer all guidance as well as great expression of pleasure that I should be coming soon.

And what a picture this became of God who continually invites us by saying, “The time is NOW. Come, respond to My invitation to life, even if you don’t know what it looks like. I’ll lovingly guide you—but you have to agree to come first. You’ll never regret accepting this invitation—and your life will never be the same again.”

The time is NOW. Hear the invitation from death to life. Don’t put this one off.

Tote Bag Repentance

I’m continuing to consider the theme of “do no harm” during this Lenten season. So many resolutions to “do no harm” have really awful unintended consequences that I’ve finding this a particularly prickly path. However, I, along with a lot of others, may be on to something that really “does no harm” and does much good.

There are two items ubiquitous to modern American life that are coming under increasing scrutiny as really nasty for the environment: plastic water bottles and plastic shopping bags—the kinds we get at grocery stores, convenience stores and just about every other place where we purchase routine items.

Of course, most people know now that this bottled water phase has been one of the bigger hoaxes foisted on the American public. Bottled water is at best no more pure than tap water, and sometimes less pure. And tons more expensive. Nonetheless, those bottles are convenient when needing a drink of water away from home and to keep in the car—so just buy one bottle periodically and keep it refilled. That will solve a lot of that ecological mess.

Now, for plastic bags: Personally, I try to keep them and reuse them as much as possible, but there really is no way to re-use all of them. Even with a small household, I can easily get up to 10 or more of these a week. I can’t imagine how many bags a house with a lot of children and many groceries to buy might accumulate in just a few weeks. Certainly, they can be recycled, and that’s a good idea. But, having my conscience pricked by reading too many “green” magazines, I decided I’d try the permanent tote bag routine.

I know that in many parts of the world, people routinely carry around with them either string bags or tote bags of some sort in which to place last minute purchases. It’s time for us to copy that habit and start carrying our own. I’ve been doing this for two weeks now. I’m still not in the habit—I tend to empty the bags and then forget to return them to the car. And the grocery checkers have also got to change their habits and learn to use them when they are presented to them. But I have started.

There are several questions I’ve yet answered. Here’s the first: I purchased a couple of inexpensive ones at a grocery store and those bags, roomy, with flat bottoms, are emblazed with the name of that particular store. Now, what do I do if I want to shop at a different store but have only the bags emblazed with the name of a competitor? Does this mean I need to purchase different tote bags for each store where I shop? Do I need to keep a collection of bags in my car to use at different places? Am I going to hurt someone’s feelings if I use the wrong tote bag at a particular store?

Also, what does it say about me if I insist on using “cheap” totebags instead of designer ones? According to one fashion maven, “No other fashion accessory matches a woman’s need better than a beautiful designer tote bag. When your suitcase is too large or your purse is too small, a designer tote bag always makes the right choice.” Oh dear—what if I’ve made the wrong choice? What if I’m too cheap to buy the “right” bag (actually, this is not a “what if I’m too cheap” it is a “I’m very much too cheap!”).

Oh well, enough of the unanswerable questions, and back to the subject at hand. I’ve got an idea. Why don’t we see if the Krum community can become a “plastic bag-free” town? This could be a fun challenge for us as a community. Think about it: Let’s suppose for a moment that the average person gets five of those bags a week (and that’s got to be a low guess). With around 4000 people in the nearby community, that number balloons to 80,000 plastic bags a month! Eighty thousand bags that wouldn’t go to landfills or fly along the highway or get caught in trees or bushes. Did you know these bags never decompose? They eventually break down in the smaller and smaller parts, but they end up being ingested and ultimately becoming part of the food cycle. Definitely not healthy for any living creature.

This could make not only a great Lenten discipline but a new and healthy habit for the rest of our lives. Caring for God’s creation can only bring pleasure to the Creator, and that sounds good to me.

“Drag Them Down and Drug Them Dumb”

Often when Christians observe the time of year we call Lent, we intentionally give up something we normally enjoy in order to enhance the important rigorous examination of our souls that is called for here. Generally it is a favorite food or perhaps some other habit, like too much TV. One year I gave up playing computer solitaire, something I will often do to relieve tension when I’m writing or working on a message. That was an eye-opener, to be sure.

This year, I’m suggesting another possibility: that we give up attitudes and ideas and dogmas that end up causing harm to ourselves and others.

And here’s a great place to start: let’s quit listening to those who label every human quirk a “psychological disorder” and then try to sell us expensive and often dangerous drugs to “fix” it. Look at this: According to psychologist Bruce Levine, a new “official mental illness” entered the vocabulary of things for which there is a drug which will fix it. That mental illness is called Oppositional Defiant Disorder, “ODD” for short. The definition? According to the American Psychiatric Association, it is a “pattern of negativistic, hostile and defiant behavior.” The official symptoms of ODD include these things: “often actively defies or refuses to comply with adult requests or rules” and “often argues with adults.”

Oh my. They just described about every teenager I’ve ever met. And guess what? We can now drug them to complicity! We can drag them down and drug them dumb. Wow—all parenting problems solved by loading our teens with psychotropic drugs. Now that’s progress. Think about it! No more sleepless nights waiting for them to come home. All homework assignments will be done on time, neatly ordered in bound folders and sweetly handed to their teachers, hair will always be at the proper length, bedrooms neat, no more towels left on the floor, and with enough drugs, these kids will probably start cooking dinner and cleaning up afterward.

OK, tongue out-of-cheek now. I’m appalled. Instead of the “Stepford Wives” we now are going to have the “Stepford Teens,” a group of nice, compliant young people who will make no waves, never question authority, and set their self-absorbed parents free to never have to be concerned about them, or put an extreme amount of energy into good parenting and possibly even cleaning up their own acts for the sake of their families.

What is the matter with us? Do we not know that those rebellious teen-aged years often bring about powerful and glorious creativity and birth new ideas? That young people must push the boundaries around them as they begin to find their own maturity and build their own inner resources so they can enter adulthood somewhat tried and tested and able to stand up for themselves? Do we wish to destroy creative and critical thinking just so our lives are a little easier?

I reared one of those classic “ODD” boys. My brother was also one, and so was his son. Yes, each of them caused their parents and loved ones a lot of despair. Can’t count the sleepless nights, the worry, and the anger we all experienced when facing these intelligent, creative minds who insisted on questioning everything, including their parent’s authority. I’m grateful we didn’t even have the option of dragging them down by drugging them dumb. Parenting them did drain much, much energy and caused a lot of self-doubt. It took a lot of help to get them through their teen years. In despair, my parents sent my brother to live with his grandparents for a while. My brother eventually sent his son to live with my parents for a year. I hung onto my son, but there were several other families that helped rear him, just as I helped rear several other rebellious sons from families where communication had gotten too tense for emotional health.

They all got through it. Sure, they left some scars in their wake. I never have caught up on my sleep again! But who ever said that parenting was easy? Where did we get this idea that good child-rearing means our children walk compliantly in lockstep? Is this really what God wants us to do as Christian parents and grandparents? Or are we given the holy responsibility to rear creative, vital, challenging children who have the guts to question injustice and do what they can to bring the world to rights again—to bring about the will of God on earth—as it is in heaven.

To any teens who might possibly be reading this column, I implore you: Do NOT let yourselves be talked into these drugs. Fight for your lives, my young friends. The future of the world is at stake—and I’m deadly serious about this. And parents . . . maybe, just maybe, a little repentance is in order. It’s time to step up to the plate and take seriously your responsibility to rear a healthy, secure, creative and defiant next generation. They’ve got a big mess to clean up, and they need clean minds and strong characters to do this. Don’t drug them up and drag them down. Please.

HDTV

“HDTV”—a pretty familiar acronym to anyone who watches TV or follows progress in the world of electronics. It stands for “High Definition TV,” a way of broadcasting that produces a significantly superior picture for those who have the kinds of TV sets that can receive the HD signal. I personally don’t have one, but was at my sister’s house a few weeks ago shortly after they had purchased and installed one. I spent a few minutes watching a football game with them and found it really mesmerizing. Spectacular detail—it really did seem much more as though we were actually present. In truth, even better than being present since we could pause, replay, take a bathroom or snack break, watch in temperature controlled conditions and never miss a play. So, besides the cost of purchasing and installing one, what’s not to like about it?

Apparently a lot, if you happen to be a performer rather than a viewer. Because it shows EVERY DETAIL, ordinary stage-makeup no longer works to keep actors, newscasters and other on-air personalities looking good. On HD TV, the usual make-up looks awful, almost Frankenstein-like. According to one observer, we can now “gaze not just at a news anchor’s eyes but deep into his or her pores, lip creases and telltale face-lift scars.”

All of this, naturally, will lead to a new industry in HD make-up, a new standard of beauty, and a lot of money for certain entrepreneurs.

It also leads me to start thinking about the Christian season of Lent that begins on February 6 with a day called “Ash Wednesday.” For much of the Christian world, many will enter into a specific time of fasting and self-examination for the forty day period preceding Easter. This is an intentional time of walking with Jesus as he neared the end of his physical life, endured the shameful and awful death, and then surprised everyone by the resurrection.

Done well, observing the discipline of Lent can be the equivalent of putting your face onto a “HD” TV screen. In other words, just like HD TV shows all the little flaws in skin tone that everyone has, a careful engagement in the practice of self-reflection can help us to see our own flaws a little more clearly. In the HD TV world, the appearance of those flaws means a dash to the latest make-up counter. In the grace-filled Christian world, the appearance of those flaws means a deeper gratefulness for the love of God who invites us into the heavenly places of holiness by the transformation of those very flaws into life-giving hope.

I know way, way too many people who don’t go to church because they don’t think they are good enough to be in church. In fact, the opposite is true: those who are sure they are really good really don’t need to bother with church. Church is for those who are seeking to become more aware of their flaws so they can be wrapped in the honest, forgiveness-filled and reconciling love of God. It is our flaws that open our vulnerability to this movement of all-encompassing love. While the HD TV viewer may recoil in horror when the flaws of his or her favorite TV personality are exposed, God instead says, “Glad you figured it out—now let’s see how we can use those very flaws to they become strengths and means of grace to others.”

One of the hardest concepts for many of us to understand is this simple one: “God is not angry.” God is not angry. God is NOT angry. God is overflowing with love and the hope of reconciliation with humanity. Yes, God is a God of justice, and so there must be wrath toward those who perpetuate injustice against others. But the seeking of justice is overlaid with transforming love that says, “Come, enter in and know that I am good.” “Come with all your flaws and imperfections and hidden areas and angers and hatreds and intolerances and let’s see how we can turn those into joy and hope and reconciliation and a world filled with justice where the Kingdom of Heaven looks like a beloved community.”

If you’ve never tried engaging in the discipline of Lent, I encourage you to consider it this year. We’ll have the traditional “Service of Ashes” on Wednesday, February 6 at both 7 a.m. and 7 p.m. at Krum United Methodist Church, McCart and Second Streets. This service marks the first day of Lent and gives instruction and shape for the season. Let’s see how NOT to be afraid of HDTV together! Anyone is welcome—church member or not. We’ll guide you through the liturgy, and offer a safe space for your own HDTV experience!

Religion and Immigration

It’s time to talk politics. As a pastor, and as one who fully respects the separation of church and state, I will not endorse a particular political candidate. I will say, however, that one’s convictions must enter the political arena and guide decisions. The idea that we should leave religion for the private sphere only and ignore religious convictions in public discussions is simply ridiculous. That is like saying that our personal circumstances should be ignored in when making political decisions. If we were to do so, most of our debates would simply disappear, for most involve personal circumstances in some way or another.

In the particular issue I seek to address here, I find myself informed both by my religious faith and my personal circumstances. The issue? The status of those, especially from Mexico, seeking to immigrate to the United States in order to create better lives for themselves.

How does the Christian faith inform this? By a simple reading of the Bible. Over and over again, God’s people are urged to show hospitality to the sojourner, to the foreigner, to the one who is not part of the accepted in-group or those in power. This message is central to the Christian Gospel: God in Christ offers welcome and salvation to everyone, not just a chosen few. And how will all hear about the hospitality of God if they don’t see the hospitality of God’s people? Just can’t happen.

For me, the issue is also personal because of the huge issues my daughter-in-law faced as she has sought legal status in the United States. Their complex situation came to mind strongly again when I read this note on the editorial page of the January 19 edition of The Dallas Morning News on January 19: “Let’s play immigration trivia. Ready? How many low-skilled Mexican workers were granted U.S. work visas last year? The answer: 418. (No, that’s not a typo.) That may help explain why more people don’t wait in line.”

I wonder if many of us who enjoy US citizenship have any idea how complex it is to “wait in line” and wade through the immigration maze to gain legal status. Jonathan, my son, and his wife, Adriana, who is from Bogotá, Colombia, have been working their way through the system since 2003. They’ve hired an attorney. Twice, appeals have been made to members of the US Congress for help. As each deadline approached, Jonathan and Adriana would make sure that all their required documents were sent way, way in advance of due dates. In response, their paperwork has been lost, misfiled, and mis-numbered. She was assigned multiple case numbers, greatly complicating the matter. Forms that were supposed to be attached to letters sent by the US governments were not actually sent. Letters and phone calls have gone unanswered, or with responses to questions not actually asked and therefore unhelpful.

I was with them this past summer when they were finally granted their interview with the Department of Homeland Security after a very scary period when it looked like Adriana, pregnant again, would have to leave the US and not be able to return legally.

Since they didn’t know how long the interviews would take, I flew to New York to take care of their child so they didn’t have to deal with a tired and hungry toddler during the day. Just an FYI: for these all important interviews, no set times are given to those who will be interviewed. Those scheduled for appointments each day are all told to show up first thing in the morning and just wait until their names are called.

They spent several days preparing for this interview. Adriana compiled multiple photo albums, showing each of them with the families of their in-laws, along with wedding photos, honeymoon photos and baby photos. Jonathan printed off hundreds of pages of documentation, including all their travels, all phone calls, all correspondence concerning the situation. I grilled them with the kinds of questions interviewers used to trap those who had made a marriage of convenience but had no intention of actually honoring the marriage covenant. Each could recite the extensive family histories of the families they married into, name the brand of toothpaste the other used, and speak of multiple intimate details that married couples just know about each other.

On the morning of the interview, they groomed themselves into what I call their “magazine cover” look. They are both spectacularly beautiful—Jonathan the traditional tall, dark and handsome, and Adriana with her golden olive skin, slim, elegantly pregnant with son number two and lovely with her exotic Castilian Spanish heritage.

I send them off with my prayers, not expecting to see them for at least six hours, and got ready for a good day with my grandson.

Two hours later, they are back, faces joyful and relieved. When they were ushered into their interview, the official took one look at them and began to stamp their application “approved” before even asking a single question. The only documentation actually requested was their apartment lease. And so, Adriana, Green Card approval in hand, could finally begin working on achieving US Citizenship.

I tell this story knowing that these are two people of privilege. They are educated, sophisticated, fully bi-lingual, and motivated. Neither is willing in any way to do anything illegal. They had funds to hire an attorney. They had access to cameras, computers, printers, good records. They had huge family support and those in the extended family who knew some members of Congress personally. And they barely made it.

So I asked: what do our immigration policies say about us as a nation? Let’s face it, almost all of us come from immigrant stock unless we are full-blood native Americans. Many of our ancestors came over here desperately looking for a better life. Others were forced to this land by the practice of slavery. Most came in poverty, worked hard and lived frugally in pretty awful conditions, sent money back home, and in time brought other family members here. They came, holding onto their native languages as long as possible, while their children discarded those languages quickly while becoming fully Americanized.

This is our history. This is part of our greatness as a nation. A knee-jerk reaction to current immigration problems will only hurt us in the long run. Let us be both Christian in our hospitality and faithful to our national heritage in offering open borders and reasonable ways for legal status. That is how we stay a great nation. I implore you to keep these things in mind as we face this politically-charged and crucial election year.

The Gathering Place

There’s a really good story in one of the more obscure books in the Bible about people coming back from years away from their homeland. When they get home, the first thing they begin to re-build is their place of worship, which had been destroyed many years before. They started with the place to gather and get to know God. Not houses, not stores, not banks, not even gas stations (or in their case, hay stations for their horses and donkeys). Nope. They started with the central place where they could learn more about God, offer their gifts, and come away knowing they had been blessed by the presence of God when they came together with others in their community.

After the foundation was laid, they began to sing and shout with joy. The older members of the community, who still remembered what it had been like to worship in the temple before it was destroyed, began to weep. While some of those tears may have been sadness for their loss, mostly those tears were ones of joy for renewed hope in the future.

For most of human history, people centered their common life in the place of worship. Generally, it was the only real gathering place in the community anyway, and it served many different purposes. Above all, it was the place to offer transcendence, i.e., a place to ponder eternal things, become more aware of the holiness of God, receive mercy as was needed, and find strength and encouragement to go and build just societies.

These are almost strange concepts in a world that is driven by consumption and personal satisfaction. But without time taken to worship God and seek both mercy for ourselves and a more just society for all, we risk losing one of the defining points of being human: an awareness that the world is much larger than we are and that we have responsibility to live faithfully to a larger moral order. Otherwise, we forget God and our world collapses into the horror of pure selfishness. That, my friends, is one definition of hell. And it is horrible to contemplate.

Now, here in this area north of Denton, there are numerous gathering places. Some are churches, some are not. So what we are Krum United Methodist Church are getting ready to do does not make us unique. But for us, as we celebrate our groundbreaking this Sunday on our long-dreamed for new worship and gathering facility, we do say this: Come, gather with us. Come, learn about God and things that are holy. Come, find a place to help rear your children with love and supportive instruction. Come, find a place for your teens to be safe and encouraged in their movement to adulthood. Come, engage with us in the beautiful cycle of the receiving and giving of forgiveness, the joy of being reconciled with God and with each other, and the delight of rich friendships and meaningful service.

This Sunday, January 20, we will officially break ground on the lovely 10 acre plot of land between NorthStar Bank and Blanche Dodd Intermediate School. We’ll dismiss the 11:0012 noon. Everyone is invited to join us, and bring your own shovel when you come. Let’s dig the hole that will be the start of the foundation for this space of holy gathering and community action. Just like those folks in that obscure book in the Bible, we’re going to shout with joy and laugh and perhaps even weep as a long held dream starts to come true.

Just for Fun

I was looking through some old computer files for something and came across this piece I had written several years ago to my three sons, who, shortly before this was written, had awarded to me temporary custody of their dog, an exuberant Chesapeake Bay Retriever. The "little dark one" is me, and the "big white one" is my husband, the Rev. J. Keith Cupples. My sons got a great kick out of this and it also serves as a reminder that we all look things very differently. And perhaps, if we can be theological for a moment, that "God's ways are not our way." Thank goodness.


Chessie's Viewpoint

OK, big brothers, just let me tell you my story before you hear from that dark one. I really didn't mean to get into trouble. Honest.

Here's what happened. For a long time now, just that little dark one has been taking me for a walk. She's OK, but I really don't pay any attention to anything she says and she won't let me run very far on that nice grassy place we go with these funny little holes that have flags sticking out of them. But a couple of days ago, the big white one started taking me for my walk and, let me tell you, that was a different experience. He's definitely the pack leader and I do whatever he says. Really, I'm kind of in love with him. I follow right at his heels when we walk on the hard stuff before we get to the grassy stuff. He doesn't even bother with that thing that connects me and tightens around my neck. The little dark one won't leave home without it.

Anyway, when we get to the grassy place with the funny little holes, the big white one says, "go" and I'm off. So many wonderful new smells and things to discover! We went out today when it was still dark and I found even more exciting things. One of them was a little black creature with a white stripe and a long bushy tail and I had the most fun chasing him. The big white one did call me to come back, but I was having so much fun that I didn't pay any attention. Suddenly, I tasted something really awful and spat and drooled and rubbed my face in the grass trying to get it off, but just couldn't do it. Both the big white one and the little dark one seemed kind of upset with me and when we got home, they wouldn't let me in the house! Can you believe that?

Then, and you are not going to believe this either, the little dark one came out and poured some red stuff all over me. It tasted kind of like those little red balls that I used to find in this space they call the "garden" this summer, but sure didn't look like it. The little dark one rubbed this stuff all over me and then squirted some oily stuff on me and then sprayed me hard with the hose! She even has the gall to tie me up so I couldn't get away. And then she threw away the nice mat I sit on when I'm out here. And if that wasn't enough, she did that all over again-more red stuff and more oily stuff and then poured some stuff all over me that smells like flowers!

The insult! The indignity! And SHE STILL WON'T LET ME IN THE HOUSE!

My big brothers-won't you rescue me? They are really mistreating me here. Up to now, they were pretty nice. Made me eat healthy food, but I finally learned to like it. I can still get on the couch during the day because, even though the little dark one yells at me, I told you I don't pay any attention to her anyway. If the big white one is around, I just stay off until he goes. Sometimes he fools me and comes right back in and I get in a little trouble, but it really doesn't matter because, as I told you, I'm kind of in love with him anyway. But even he WOULDN'T LET ME BACK IN THE HOUSE TODAY even after all that nasty stuff the little dark one did to me.

Do you think this is fair? I DEMAND TO BE LET IN. I'm going to sit out here and whine until the little dark one changes her mind.

Your devoted little sister,
Chessie

Change and Likeability

I’ve been watching the political campaigns with a great deal of interest. I know our political system is cumbersome, expensive, tedious, complex and not overly fair. Nonetheless, it is free and open and everyone can express their opinions. I find this liberating and hopeful for us as a nation.

Two words keep coming to mind as I watch what is going on: “change” and “likeability.” Clearly, many if not just about everyone are unhappy or frustrated with something going on at a national or international level. The very real crisis in the housing industry, scarily high gas prices, a ridiculously expensive and not particularly effective health care system, and an unpopular war coupled with the need to be very supportive of our troops overseas add to much tension, fear, and need for significant change. It’s an ideal time for a leader to come forth who can lead the nation through this.

And that brings up the second word, “likeability.” Some people just have it. They have warmth, friendliness, connection, and the invisible but knowable quality we call “charisma” that pulls people in. It was one of the reasons that former president Bill Clinton won his presidential election in 1992. He’s got it. Unfortunately, that charisma, that powerful ability to be liked, often brings people into office or leadership without the underlying character or skills to support the hard work of integrity filled leadership. Happens in the church all the time. The rising star who packs ‘em in on Sundays way too often turns out to have a fatal character flaw that ends up destroying many as it becomes more and more evident.

The best leader is one who does indeed have the kind of charisma that encourages others to follow, and manages to wed that important likeability factor with extreme self-honesty, integrity, and a willingness to be held accountable for both public and private actions. Someone with strong internal character strength has the ability to stand alone when making unpopular decisions, but also works to hear the voices of those who radically disagree with those decisions. It’s a complex balance, and few do it well.

As a pastor, I keep thinking about Jesus, whose life, death, and resurrection changed the world, and still does. He was both wildly popular, i.e., charismatic in the best sense of the word, and so completely unpopular that his death was arranged by those who were threatened by the light of his integrity and willingness to live, lead and speak faithfully out of that.

I don’t have some kind of neat and tidy ending to this series of thoughts here. Wish I did. Someway to wrap up what real leadership is both within and without the church that can lead to healthy and holy change. We’re a flawed people with a flawed system doing the best we can. Yet we also have a holy and unflawed God, our Creator and Sustainer, who calls each of us to live intentional lives leading to greater and greater Christ-likeness. That’s much more than just being likeable, and being able to lead to change. It’s a willingness to die for one’s beliefs, trusting in the resurrection on the other side. Definitely not neat and tidy; definitely ultimately transformational.

The Power of Names

Starbucks and MacDonald's are going to duke it out over coffee. Apparently, MacDonald's is testing the installation of gourmet coffee bars is some of their stores and installing their own barristas to staff them. For those who are not Starbucks aficionados, a “barrista” is the person who takes your coffee order and prepares it exactly to your liking. If you have real status in the status coffee-drinking world, your barrista knows you by name and can begin your special brew when you walk in the store.

Makes me think of the well-loved TV show, Cheers, a bar in Boston where “everybody knows your name.” There really is something comforting about walking in a place where your name is known and where you know everyone else’s name. Our names are very personal, and to have someone use it properly usually means a connection of some sort.

Names are very important to us. When my husband and I married, nearly 10 years ago, we had a long discussion about names. Most women do take their husband’s name upon marriage, and I had done so at my first one. But after the devastation of divorce and the necessity to rebuild my life, I took back my birth name as a way of recognizing my own re-birth through a time of great darkness. I wasn’t all that eager to lose it again. I suggested to my husband that he take my name. When he received that suggestion with something akin to horror (and I think it opened his own eyes to the power of our names), we agreed that we would just keep our names as they were. I’m so used to us going by different names now that I don’t think about it much, but every once in a while I realize that people who know both of us professionally have no idea that the two of us are married to each other.

I have an earned doctorate, and when someone wants to use my most formal title, I am addressed as “Dr. Thomas.” Those who know me as a pastor but don’t know about the doctorate would use “Rev. Thomas” for the formal title. Many people at the church call me “Dr. Christy” which is nice way of using the more informal first name with the hard-earned title that goes with it. Every once in a while, someone will refer to me as Mrs. Thomas. That one really throws me. Because Mrs. Thomas is my mother. Not me. Really, I am NOT Mrs. Thomas.

I’ve always gone by “Christy” as my given name, but my actual birth certificate name is “Mary Christine.” I remember always having to correct teachers on the first day of school when they called the roll the first day by saying “Mary Thomas.” No one ever called me “Mary” and I simply don’t respond to the name, so I would try to listen carefully through the alphabet until they came to me and I would say, “I go by Christy.”

So what is it about our names that when used well, bring a sense of connection, and when used less well, seem discordant or even extremely uncomfortable? Even when they are misspelled, it can be bothersome. “Christy,” for example, can be spelled: Christi, Christie, Kristy, Kristie, Krysti, Chrysti, and probably another half-dozen ways I’ve not yet seen. And not one of these identically pronounced names is really mine. I find myself asking more about the power of knowing names when I’m at a point in my life when I’m having more and more trouble remembering them.

I know that when this life is over and I see God face-to-face, I want to hear my name pronounced as one of those who has been given the gift of eternal life and the joy of real intimacy with God. I want God to look at me and say, “Christy, you are my beloved daughter. Come in, come in, my dear one.” It may be that we all have that longing, and that our name represents our very being, the core of our soul. When it is misused, even inadvertently, something is violated. And when a name is misused intentionally, as when people are teased about their names—something that so often happens in childhood, the wound goes deep.

I don’t know of any way to use other people’s names flawlessly, or to remember them well. However, I am aware that at least making an effort to learn and use them is a way of showing to others that they are valued. Assigning a number to someone works to dehumanize them. Calling them tenderly by their names reminds them that they are precious in the site of God. It’s worth the effort.

The Relationship Tightrope


As everyone who has ever sought to enter into a loving and committed relationship with another human being has learned, the actual living out of that relationship can be fraught with difficulties. Living in a loving relationship is a gloriously complicated enterprise. And one of the things that makes it so complicated is that we often think we must make the other person in the relationship happy. Trying to make someone else happy can certainly be compared to the act of walking on a tightrope, a skill that takes much, much practice.

Let's assume for a moment, however, that you have had a great deal of practice and are pretty accomplished at the art of tight-rope walking. After all, most of us have been in relationships of some sort for years and should have learned most of the tricks by the time we are functioning adults.

As anyone who has been to a circus knows, the dangerous tightrope walk is done under controlled circumstances. The rope is inside a tent, so there are no weather vagaries to deal with, and there is a good, strong safety net spanning the entire length of the tightrope. Even the most experienced performer falls frequently, especially when learning new skills.

When beginning to learn this skill, the tightrope is close to the ground and there is a lot of support. Eventually, it get higher and higher and the skills of the performer becomes greater and greater. At some point, however, an imbalance in the situation may lead to a tumble.

Now, to keep to the comparison, let's make a list of demands that are often placed on a relationship that is based on making someone else happy. Unfortunately, those demands, while they may seem innocent, may be causing just enough imbalance in the situation to lead to a dangerous fall.

Pretend with me for a while that the items in parenthesis happen in parallel with the requests for attention and support, that is, the requests to “make me happy.”

I want you to be very interested in me and to show that interest by frequent phone calls, with inquiries about my life and work and family.

(Wind is starting to blow outside the enclosed tent where the tightrope walker performs.)

I want you to so desire to spend time with me that you often arrange your schedule to make sure it matches mine so we can be together with much frequency.

(A rope-eating virus invisibly lands on the safety net and begins to multiply.)

I want you to be fully supportive of my own demanding work that when I come home exhausted and uncommunicative, you simply honor that with quietness and grace and then you rub my shoulders and fix me a healthy snack and give me adequate space before engaging in any other way.

(Circus master decides to delight the onlookers by raising your platform from which you step out onto the rope to the highest level available-higher than you've ever walked).

I want you to anticipate what I need without my having to ask.

(Wind picks up even more outside and begins to infiltrate some weak spots in the canvas tent, bringing some slack to what should be a very tight rope.)

I want you to be grateful for the little tasks I do around the house that make your life more comfortable.

(Tightrope walker starts having trouble keeping his/her balance but decides to keep going and not risk a loss of face by turning back or asking for help or renegotiation.)

I want to be adored spiritually, mentally, socially and physically.

(Rope eating virus weakens several spots in the safety net and the increasing wind permits some of the virus particles to land on the tightrope itself.)



I want you to be completely understanding of all my moods, and never try to fix me when I get into a down mood. However, you should try to distract me, but be very understanding if I snap at your proposed distractions.

(It starts to pour rain outside and the canvas roof leaks. Wind speed dramatically increases.)

I want you to have a highly successful career but make sure you have plenty of energy for me.

(Somebody's blackberry goes off in the circus tent and warns of a tornado in the immediate vicinity.)

I want you to get much public recognition for your hard work and for your salary to rise competitively as a result of those recognitions.

(Rope eating virus leaves several large spots of the safely net radically weakened but the weakened areas are invisible.)

I want you to completely open your heart mind and soul to me and let me in whenever I want.

(Tent poles begin to sway and rain lands on on the head of the tightrope walker.)

I want you to be physically and mentally healthy, taking plenty of time for yourself as you need it, but being sure to explain kindly to me when you need that time, plus I want an ETA as to when that self-time will be over and you can resume playing close attention to me.

(Audience begins to panic and leave in droves. Rope eating virus weakens the tightrope and it loses even more tension.)

I want you to spill over with joy when you see me, and yet see me off on my travels or other times away with support and generosity. I also want you to miss me excruciatingly while I'm gone, but to use your time well so you can concentrate on me when I get back.

(Despite heroic efforts and high skill level, the tightrope walker falls, expecting to be caught by the safety net, but lands on one of the weak areas. There is just enough intact net to break the fall before the tightrope walker lands on the ground. still alive, but greatly injured.)

Does any of this sound familiar? It's the common problem with so many relationships—each wants so much of the other, but doesn't always see that by having those needs met, they may be causing the other to crash. Personally, I think one of the most dangerous phrases is the English language is “I want to make you happy.” Or even worse, “I'll do anything to make you happy.”

It should never be our responsibility to make another person happy. Happiness is a personal choice. When it becomes dependent upon the actions of another, the ability to make that choice is lost. Now, it is the actions of other (or perceived actions of others, or even worse, the perceived motives behind the perceived actions of others) that brings happiness or unhappiness. When we start examining the motives of others, we leave behind one of the greatest definitions of love, “Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.”

If love really believes all things, then love does not go around suspiciously checking out the motives of others, or trying to manipulate someone else to “meet our needs,” but instead graciously puts up with anything, operates out of trust, looks for the best, and keeps going to the end. This is how we want God to love us. We would serve that desire best by learning to do this for others.

A Year of Truth-Telling

The news has reverberated from coast to coast—the apparently widespread use of performance enhancing drugs among major-league baseball players. If this does turn out to be true, such activity is hardly a surprise by those on the inner circles of these places. It may not have been talked about openly, but lots and lots of people had to know. Many superstars may have their records sullied because of these revelations. Just for a moment, I wonder how many others took such substances and hoped for superstar status but never made it.

In my opinion, there is nothing wrong with looking for a competitive edge, as long as, of course, such edge is legal. I’ve read some who made a comparison with this illegal substance use and pro-golfer Tiger Wood’s choice to have laser surgery on his eyes, resulting in better-than-normal vision. Writers and pundits who pushed the comparison and suggested the two actions are essentially the same overlooked two factors. First, laser surgery is legal. Second, and far more important, Mr. Woods did not hide the surgery, did not claim he never had it, or in any other way that I’m aware of lived a lie because of it. It’s the living the lie that causes the problems, not wanting to get better and better at our given specialties.

Part of just being human is that live out of a tendency to lie about ourselves. Frankly, we lie a lot about ourselves. We diminish our faults, exaggerate our virtues, and work very, very hard to make sure certain parts of our lives never come to light. Many people have so much guilt because of hidden deeds and unacceptable thoughts that they find themselves bound up by the lies they have told to keep these things hidden away. People who claim to “tell it like it is” generally have eagle eyes where other people’s faults lie or secrets are hidden. They are willing to shout those things to the hilltops but are strangely silent about their own.

I read once that it takes seven additional lies to cover up for the first one. A moment of choosing not to tell the truth then can take on a life of its own, with more and more untruths necessary in order to keep the first lie from being found it. Think of the amount of energy that goes into such actions! We have to remember who we told what to and who we didn’t tell and constantly be on our guard in case we are found out. That’s pretty draining.

I think it would be interesting to make 2008 the year of truth-telling. This becomes the year when we seek to live in such a way that we can quit lying and hiding and covering up. Instead of expending all that energy in keeping a lie afloat, that energy can be used for much more productive things. We could develop a new hobby, relax more fully, have much more fun, discover that we are people worth liking, get a whole new understanding of how much God really does love us, and wake up in the morning with a light heart and a hopeful attitude. Doesn’t that sound nice?

The key to this truth-telling is that we must tell our own truth—not what we think someone else’s truth is. It sounds like a fine point, but everything hinges on this. Real truth telling calls for a deeply integrated life. It’s a life that carefully examines how we ourselves really do want to be treated and then deliberately and intentionally sets out to treat others that way.

For example, if you really think that your ideas and thoughts should be heard with respect and interest by others, then truth telling consists of working very hard to hear and be interested in the ideas and thoughts of others. That’s real truth—not jumping down someone else’s throat when they didn’t do it the way you wanted them to. If you want your time or space or special interest to be honored, then telling the truth about it makes sure that other’s time and space and hobbies are honored. If your truth says that you really do want to the world to dance only to your tune, then practice dancing only to someone else’s tune. You might discover that your truth needs some fine-tuning.

What do you say? Shall we give this a try? Sure beats being found out the hard way about the lies we’ve been telling.

The Disruptive Birth

It's nearly here now. Next Sunday, December 23, marks the last Sunday in Advent, that time of waiting and preparation so we are ready to receive the gift of the baby in the manger. Of course, not many of us have taken the time we need to get our hearts fully prepared. I, of course, am one who, though full of good intentions, just didn't take all the time I had planned so I, too, could be in a state of complete readiness when I come to adore the baby.

On the other hand, it is not all that hard to adore babies. They are amazing little things—innocent and sweet and just a whole lot of trouble with a tendency to disrupt all our normal routines.

I wonder if that is one of the reasons that God chose this truly strange method to break into human experience. God comes as a baby, innocent, and sweet and just extremely disruptive.

I have been pondering recently a generational quirk in my heritage. The women, especially on my paternal side, all tend to have two babies within a year and a half of each other. One time when I was learning something about my family history, I saw that this tendency went back at least four generations. Now my oldest son and his wife have followed the pattern. Their second son, Samuel, was born about five weeks ago, just 17 months after the first, Joshua, made his appearance.

Now, I could have told them that Joshua would not take kindly to Samuel's birth. Joshua, very much used to having the world ordered to his satisfaction, is a typical demanding, manipulative, charming self-centered toddler. Simply adorable, of course, as all our grandchildren are. But still . . . he has a strong need to be the center of his parents attention. Samuel's birth has been very disruptive to his little self-centered world. Just as my second son's appearance was to his older brother's world, and my sister's appearance to my own world. Yes, these babies were quite disruptive to our natural tendencies to be self-centered.

As I said, I could have told them this, but why bother? We all have to learn these things for ourselves, and by the time I could have told them that, this new life was well along in his mother's womb. Personally, my oldest son was such an easy charming baby that I assumed it was all because I was such a wonderful mother, so why not have another? After all, it was clear I was a great gift to the art of mothering! Boy, did my second son upset my over flattering picture of my mothering capabilities! Yes, that disruption again.

So, I'm thinking about the baby we keep singing about in the well-loved Christmas carols like “O come, let us adore him,” and “Away in a Manger” and “O Holy Night.” This music is full of terms of love and gentleness and hope and sweetness and the goodness of God. But we don't often sing of the disruption caused by this very strange way of God's entering human life. Think about it. Mary's and Joseph's plans have gone completely awry. Surely their families must have felt much disappointment with the too-soon birth of their grandchild. Some middle eastern men who lived by studying the stars suddenly leave everything behind for several years in their search to make sense of something in the heavens/ Their searches lead them to a poor family in odd circumstances. The king of Judea, Herod (not a nice man at all), decides he so doesn't want his life disrupted that he orders the slaughter of a lot of little children to ensure his own claim to the throne. All this is very disruptive to the ways we think God should enter the world of humanity

Then this baby grows up and turns out to be nothing like the kind of Savior that the people want. He favors the poor and the sinner and the outcast and those with no place in polite or ordered society. He castigates the religious and upright people. He dies the death of a criminal, and his body disappears after his death and his followers cause all sorts of chaos with their wild claims of resurrection. Very disruptive indeed. Not at all what is expected.

It does seem that the entrance of holiness into that which is non-holy causes all sorts of disruption. Instead of hearing words like, “I love you so much that you don't have to change anything,” we hear, “I love you so much that you must undergo deep transformation in order to be able to fully understand it. If you really want to receive this love, your life will never be the same again.” I think most of us would rather hear the first statement than the last. But the last one is a lot closer to the real message of Christmas—and it's wonderfully disruptive.

So, have a merry Christmas—and let the entrance of the baby throw things off just a bit. You'll never be sorry you did.

We Did It!

Something very profound has happened at Krum United Methodist Church. Before I tell you what happened, bear with me a minute while I explain how we are governed. The United Methodist Church is a connectional church. By that I mean that no one church functions independently from others in the larger United Methodist connection. Churches in geographical areas are grouped into what are called “Annual Conferences” and each conference is divided into districts which are overseen by District Superintendents. Krum United Methodist Church is part of the North Texas Annual Conference, and we are in the Dallas-Denton District (or, as we on the north end prefer to call it, the “Denton-Dallas District.”

Every year, each United Methodist church must hold what is called a “Charge Conference.” These meetings, presided over by our various District Superintendents, are generally somewhat sleep-inducing meetings where an interminable numbers of reports are produced, the business of the church is presented, the pastor's salary voted on (there are NO secrets where clergy salaries are concerned!), and the names of those who will lead the various committees for the next year are announced. Yawn.

But there was not a single yawn in evidence when we gathered this past Sunday at 4:30 p.m. Despite the rapidly lowering outside temperature, the basement Fellowship Hall in our historic building at the corner of 2nd and W. McCart was filled. Thirty one others, who for various reasons could not attend, had indicated they wanted to vote in absentia. What was going on? Where did that huge amount of interest come from?

As many who live in the Krum area may know, there has long been a sign on a ten acre plot of land on the north side of 1173 between the NorthStar Bank and Dodd Intermediate School. That sign has read, “Future Home of Krum UMC.” Well, my friends, the future is now. After years of prayer, planning, hard work, faithful and sacrificial giving, and a determination to follow where God leads, this loving and courageous group of Christians have said, “It's time to build.”

In early 2008, construction will begin. So many prayers have been answered here.

The current building is full of beautiful memories. A loving and generous group of people have met here for worship and service and education and life together for over 80 years now since the basement was first built in 1924. In their words and lives, they have proclaimed the good news of Jesus Christ to this community and to the world. Now, we are preparing to do so in a way that will be far more accessible and hospitable. No more stairs, lots of bathrooms, light and bright nursery and children's areas, big and well-equipped youth room—we are grateful that all this will come to pass. But the same loving and generous people will meet for worship and service and education and life together. Come join us. Your soul will rejoice and be glad.

“The Hope of Peace”

I fixed my washing machine last week. Now, to some of you, that would be no big deal. But for some of us mechanically impaired, this was MAJOR ACCOMPLISHMENT. Those who were at church on Nov. 25 heard the truly pitiful tale of my complete inability not only to change a flat tire but to even recognize that I had one. (If you want to hear this sad tale, go to the church website, www.krumumc.org, click on the “listen to messages” tab and find the Nov. 25th one. As a friend of mine said after hearing it, "Christy, there are angels in heaven set aside just to watch over people like you!").

OK, to get back to this washing machine. My husband bought it from his parent's estate. Here's how my sister-in-law described the purchase of this machine. "When Mother walked into the appliance store, the sales associate thought, 'All right, the sucker has shown up. I will sell her the most expensive, most complicated machine ever built.'" And thus she, and now I, ended up with a couple of intriguing Swedish-made machines. Admittedly, they don't take up much space and the washer uses very little water and does get the clothes excruciatingly clean. That's the good side. The bad side is that I had to read a 30 page manual just to figure out how to turn it on. I was so excited when I lowered my time from 45 minutes to only a few seconds to start a basic cycle. It's still another story when I want to do something more complicated.

Anyway, it quit draining last week. The electronic display said something about a fault in the drain line. Since I'm convinced that MY drain lines are simply faultless, I decided to do with the washer what I do with my computer when it gets recalcitrant—turn it off and turn it on again Three tries later, I got the same message. Three days later, with my clothes still locked in the washer, since it stubbornly refused to release the electronic lock in its undrained state, I began to get just a little concerned. Laundry was piling up, and I suspected generous mildew growth was taking place in the receptive damp environment.

I phoned the national service desk—the one advantage to such an EXPENSIVE appliance is that extremely nice and friendly people are available 24 hours a day to solve problems like this. A kind young man, and I feel sure I reminded him of his mother, expressed full confidence that I could fix the problem and explained exactly what I had to do. Simply open a little trap door and clean out a filter there. He said that probably just a little water would drain out when I did and to be sure and put something under there to catch it. Please note, I had NOT told him I had restarted the machine three times after the original error message showed up. Possibly, I should have mentioned that one little fact to him. I will refrain from describing the slight panic that hit when water simply gushed from the trap. And didn't stop gushing for quite a while. But the floor in my laundry area is now quite clean—and I really, really needed a working machine after that.

Nonetheless, I persevered, found $1.87 in loose change there, and joyfully listened later as the machine ran through its cycle, draining merrily away at the right time. What a sense of accomplishment!

Since I strongly believe that all things are connected in some way or another, I knew there was something for me to learn from this. I’m sure many have heard of the “butterfly effect”—the idea that a butterfly flapping its wings on one side of the world can affect a hurricane on the other side. This idea reminds us that there is no such thing as an isolated or a neutral act. Everything has consequences. Every interaction with others, every decision, every piece of work done or undone, every prayer offered or unoffered, every act of kindness or unkindness—they all add either add to or subtract from the hope of the Kingdom of God.

As we are in this time of Advent, the waiting time as we prepare to receive the Savior so generously sent by the Father, it becomes a good time to ponder the eternal consequences of our thoughts and actions, from such simple things as this little repair to such large things as beginning a war. On the day this article will be published in the Krum Star, December 7, we also remember that day that “lived in infamy”—for December 7 is the day of the horrific Pearl Harbor attack that killed so many and changed the world forever.

I want to be one who stands for peace, and I know there can be no peace with others until there is peace with God. The ability to make this simple repair brought peace to my house. Perhaps as we get ready to receive the hope offered by the birth of the Holy Child, we can also gain more ability to make peace with others. It would be a worthwhile goal.