When I first started a blog, it was to share my reflections on lay leadership as a member of the Virginia Conference Connectional Ministries staff. The blog was started on Blogger with the email address I had before the VAUMC moved to Google Mail. When the address changed, the original blog was lost. I recreated a few entries, including this one about why I named the blog “Walking Martha Home.” I’m now into the second iteration of “Still Walking Martha Home.” With all that is going on following the 2019 Called General Conference, maybe it’s time to remind myself why I chose that name, and to share the story with those who want to read along. So, from the fall of 2013….

My early morning walk today was filled with reflections on events of the last week.  In the midst of all the thoughts swirling in my head, there was a constant call to write about my experiences.  There was a persistent question of whether my life lessons could impact the direction of lay leadership in the Virginia Conference of The United Methodist Church. There was also a flashback to a quote I retweeted two weeks ago from Todd Adkins (@Todd Adkins):  “Sometimes God puts young leaders around you who need to hear your past so it doesn’t become their future.”  Then there came the realization that in my presentations about developing intentional Older Adult Ministries I emphasize that we all feel the need to leave a legacy – to add dimension to the lives of those we journey with throughout our lives – and since I’m in my midlife season now, I need to spend more time living what I “preach.”  

As my walk ended and I came to the lamppost at my sidewalk, I snapped the picture at the end of this post: the blooming clematis vine wrapped around a garden flag and an old brick. The climbing vine breaking forth with new life and stretching in every direction possible, unconcerned about how I tried to tie it off and make it conform to my expectations.  The garden flag that grabbed my heart immediately when I saw it at a local produce stand because of the goofy blue bird in its center: a bird so wacky looking that I just had to have it in my yard to prompt me daily to enjoy life.  The brick that reminds me of my life story, taken from the pile of rubble after the demolition of a 90-year old building in my hometown which was destroyed by fire last year.

Joyce’s Drug Store filled part of that building for many, many years.  It was across the street from the primary school I attended.  When I was young, that store is where I would meet my mother after school, have a Coke or ice cream and possibly buy a comic book, before we walked home.  Sometimes I’d have to wait a little while in the safety of the drug store before she arrived.  In 1968, the school system was finally integrated, and one day that year when my mom was very late coming to the drug store, a new male friend who was in my second grade class decided to walk me home.  

The house I grew up in was on the edge of the road that divided the black and white sides of our little village.  Ronnie lived on one side; I lived on the other. At age 7, we were too young to know the turmoil we might be creating.  As we rounded the curve toward my house, I remember seeing my mother on the front porch but can’t recall the look on her face.  I do remember Ronnie’s words:  “I’m walking Martha home, Mrs. Ensley.”  

I realize now that my journey of authentic leadership began that day.  What was swirling in my head this morning that brought all this back and led to starting this blog?

We invited a group of friends to our house last Friday night (-now remember I wrote this in the fall of 2013).  As the early arrivals gathered at the kitchen table and began to share a meal, the conversation turned negative when they realized that one of the guests was an immigrant to the United States from the Middle East and of Muslim faith.  I couldn’t tolerate the conversation so I walked into another room. For a week now have tried to deal with my troubled heart for not speaking out and addressing what was being said.  How can I claim to be the advocate for justice that I believe Jesus calls me to be when I didn’t voice my displeasure that this conversation was happening in my own house?

The extreme introvert that I am, I have been in recovery for two days after talking for almost 1 ½ hours straight each way between Virginia Beach and Glen Allen on Wednesday as two of us “old” directors on the Connectional Ministries staff traveled to Licensing School with three of the interns in our office this summer.  These young adults are struggling with questions of faith and church life that it took me into my forties to even think about. How do we live authentic Christian lives? How can we exclude people when Jesus called us to love everyone? How do we move the church forward without fear?  It pains me to my core to see the hurt and questioning in their eyes.  How do I as a lay leader in The United Methodist Church encourage holy conversation and action that will transform the lives of people of all ages and let them see that we truly live what we say we believe? (-Wow, was this really 6 years ago or last week?)

I had to make a very difficult phone call yesterday to share the decision of a board for which I serve as chair.  The call had the potential to change the professional relationship that I have had with the individual for 13 years.  Upon sharing an update of the conversation with the other members of the board, I sensed a new round of great mistrust and anger.   How do I lead in ways that build trust, allowing all the voices to be heard, yet keeps the focus on God’s call for our individual and corporate ministries above our own desires? (- Mistrust of and anger toward leaders, still emotions in the church???)

In “Discovering Your Authentic Leadership,” a February 2007 article for the Harvard Business Review, authors Bill George, Peter Sims, Andrew McLean and Diana Mayer describe a process of research interviews conducted with 125 leaders identified for their success.   The interviews were based upon one question:  “How can people become and remain authentic leaders?”  In analyzing the results, the research team found that the leaders did not identify specific essential leadership characteristics or traits.  It was their life stories that formed the foundation of their success. “Consciously and subconsciously, they were constantly testing themselves through real-world experiences and reframing their life stories to understand who they were at their core. In doing so, they discovered the purpose of their leadership and learned that being authentic made them more effective.”  (On-line article:  http://hbr.org/2007/02/discovering-your-authentic-leadership/ar/1 ) 

Robin Sharma, author of The Saint, The Surfer and The CEO: A Remarkable Story About Living Your Heart’s Desires (2003: Hay House, Inc.; Carlsbad, CA), states that authentic leadership “is all about being the person you know in your heart you have always been destined to be.”  (You can find an on-line summary article of the “Ten Things Authentic Leaders Do” at: http://leadership.uoregon.edu/resources/exercises_tips/leadership_reflections/10_things_authentic_leaders_do ) 

So, my journey of authentic Christian leadership which began the day Ronnie walked me home will now continue with this blog.  By the way, we all knew by the time we became teenagers that Ronnie was gay.  By the early 1980s, he had died from complications of HIV/AIDS.  His life continues to impact my life story. My prayer is that this blog will impact the lives of those who are on this journey with me to be the best United Methodist lay leaders we can be.

Airports on the day I leave a General Conference seem to be the place to process and share reflections. I’m starting this reflection while our plane is deiced in St. Louis. An ice storm came through early this morning. A mix of ice and snow is beginning to fall again (8:50 AM CST). Seems fitting that there is a coating of ice to cover this area.

Division surrounds us. It could not have been more evident than in a gathering of Southeastern Jurisdiction leaders yesterday. A story shared by one of our fellow lay members about trying to talk a young person out of “being gay” was heartbreaking. And that person wouldn’t stop despite the obvious distress the story was causing some in the group. Others commented that if we could “just tread water long enough” to get past this General Conference, the young people will come to revive the church. That sentiment was echoed by others. All I could think was that we’ve been treading water in the U.S. church for 50 years already. Then there was a request for a group to gather to create a plan to present to the 2020 General Conference as a way to work out this division, as if anything had hope of passing after serious attempts for at least the 4 General Conferences I’ve attended. When I added that I thought at least 40% of us were wondering if we could stay in The UMC (to match the voting divisions all session), I was met with questioning responses.

Yet, God made God’s self known in…

• the evening fellowship around the feast on the table
• the conversations about how those of us who are feeling lost in the faith tradition we love and have given our lives to can move forward
• the texts, email messages and calls offering support and prayers
• the face of the shuttle driver to the airport, with whom I shared the front seat, who had been transporting United Methodists all week and was courageous enough, knowing he had another UM group this morning, to share the experience of going to his goddaughter’s bachelorette party at her favorite gay bar. As he shared his love for her and her now wife and his appreciation for all the people gathered that night, I asked if he was a person of faith. His answer was a resounding “Yes!” My next question to him was “And you realize you have a group of United Methodists you’re taking to the airport this morning?” “Yes, and I know all about what you’ve been doing in St. Louis.”

Just like the cooing pigeon with a rainbow on its neck on my windowsill yesterday morning, God appeared to start this day with another messenger of love.

My heart continues to ache not just for myself, but for all of us who feel that we have lost our home in The UMC. I grieve a little more with every pastoral letter that I read. Knowing so many of those pastors personally, I understand their struggles and have heard their questions of whether they can continue in a church that excludes God’s children. I cry with the laity who share the same questions.

My soul continues to struggle as good people express their reactions to what has taken place in our church in such hurtful ways. Again this morning, a message came in which the person said they were glad I was hurting because I got what I deserved for supporting the One Church Plan. They went on to tell me that I needed to go back and read my Bible some more. Doesn’t the Bible say a few things about treating others as you would treat yourself and being compassionate? Maybe I’ve been reading the wrong version all these years.

My mind continues to be confused by actions and words that say any group is not welcome in the Body of Christ. If it’s right to exclude one group because of particular statements in the Bible, we must be honest and confess that the rest of us really shouldn’t be here either. I’m childless; following arguments people have shared with me much too many times over the past few months, I don’t glorify God. I don’t eat right, exercise enough, or sleep well so my body certainly is not a temple. As a cisgendered woman married to a previously married, divorced man, I’m not worthy. The list could go in. Maybe I’m really not welcome either.

All of us who served as delegates to this Called General Conference – no matter what plan or actions we supported – come back home hurt and in need of healing. Offer us space. Continue your prayers. Help us renew our spirits.

I still firmly believe God’s got this. THIS won’t look the same over the coming months. THIS family will not include the same people – LGBTQ+ or straight. THIS denomination won’t have as many buildings, educational institutions or mission agencies. Yet, THIS hopeful, justice-seeking, grace filled message of a Body of Christ where all are welcome will continue to change lives and transform the world.

The dancing did not return today. The tears flowed. They welled up in my eyes and streamed down my face as the harm we have done to one another, the hurt we have caused to one another, settled in. The tears fell hardest because sadly we’ve done it all in the name of Jesus.

I treasure my fellow travelers on my faith journey. I am blessed that those partners, mentors and teachers have been of every background, theological persuasion, educational level, size, shape and ability level. What I have learned from each person has made me who I am; for that I am eternally grateful.

I can’t imagine now being “church” without any one of those people. Yet that is where I find myself tonight. The words are hard to come after this last long, emotional day in St. Louis at the Called UMC General Conference. The actions of the day leave me with more tears than words to express how I’m feeling right now. Other people who were in the same space for the last four days are rejoicing. I weep.

The church that has been a vital part of my father’s side of the family for generations will be different from this point forward.

The church that baptized me and asked not just my parents but the entire congregation to raise me in the faith will forever be different.

The church that taught me what it means to be United Methodist and confirmed me in the faith will never be the same.

The church that held my wedding, buried my family members, and nurtured me through so many challenges, will forever now be known as one that tried to have open hearts, minds, and doors but chose this day to close them.

The church that I love will be different from this point forward because a vote was passed that enforces stricter punishments and offers “gracious exits’ for those who decide the true Gospel message is love: God’s unconditional love for everyone born.

It’s not unusual as it has happened a number of times in our Methodist and Brethren predecessor denominations. From the role of bishops and laity to women in leadership and racial segregation, our history is not pretty. We’ve separated people out, said they were not worthy of God’s love, told them that Jesus loved everybody – just not them. Today we did it again with a decision that causes great harm to people I love.

Tonight, I’ll cry. I’ll cry for the young adult that I have watched grow up in the church who sent me a Facebook Messenger text today that read, “I can trust love. I just can’t trust the people of the church.”

Tonight, I’ll cry for the grandparent who sent a letter weeks ago noting that their daughter and son-in-law would not have their child baptized in the United Methodist church because they didn’t want that child to grow up recognizing they were gay and be unloved by the church.

Tonight, I’ll cry for the young clergy in our denomination who now wonder where they need to live out their calling, for the LGBTQ+ clergy and church members who have been such an important part of my life and now have been even more harmed by The UMC, and for all those who see us as hypocrites who say we believe one thing and show something totally different through our actions.

Tonight, I’ll cry because I could not help the church I love understand that God calls us to love everybody.

You changed my mourning into dancing. You took off my funeral clothes and dressed me up in joy. Psalm 30:11 (CEB)

The Psalmist tells me my titles from yesterday and today should be reversed. Yesterday, we danced. Today, many of us mourn. There is still a glimmer of hope that the mourning can turn to dancing tomorrow. But tonight, my soul is weary. My mind is tired and my emotions unsettled. I feel like I need to get my funeral clothes ready.

Yesterday morning I was prayed over by a delegate from West Virginia (in the blue jacket in the picture below) and a delegate from Penn-Delaware. We were instructed during a time of prayer that followed the presentation from the Commission on a Way Forward to gather with two folks outside our delegation, share our personal concerns and hopes for the work of the General Conference and pray for one another. One of the others asked us to pray that he could hear God’s voice in how we move forward. The other also asked for greater clarity. My hope: that no matter what happened, love would win.

Tonight, love seems absent.

Tonight, it doesn’t feel like we’re living by either of the first two rules of discipleship given to us by John Wesley: do no harm and do good.

Tonight, I’m not sure I can continue to be United Methodist if the name stays with a church that is more harmful to persons who are LGBTQ+ than we are now.

Tonight, I pray for God to move us in a different direction.

Tonight, I cry for the denomination that has raised me and made me who I am.

Tonight, I mourn.

Tomorrow, I will fight for one more day.

From the beginning of worship at 7:30 AM this morning, the Virginia Conference delegation to The UMC Called General Conference was dancing: all of us in our own ways. The music filled our souls to the point that our hands began to clap and our feet move. You may have seen the videos on my Facebook page. By an early afternoon break, the entire delegation was laughing and carrying on with our fellow Virginians and friends in the concourse. Even though some might not admit it, I think we all enjoyed the moment. It certainly filled us with a positive energy and showed our true love for one another – even though we are not all of one mind on the questions before us: our “incompatibility” language for persons who are LGBTQ+, same gender marriage (in our buildings and by our clergy who so choose to officiate) and ordination.

Move from that moment to the release of the vote totals on priority of legislative petitions. Top on the list: pensions. Second: the Traditional Plan. Third: disaffiliation proposals which boil down to ownership of property.

I tried very hard in all the presentations I made for the last nine months to remain as unbiased as I could in what I said about the three plans presented in the report of the Commission on a Way Forward. However, if you know me and if you’ve listened to me make any presentation or offer any message in the past, you must know that inclusion in the life of the church is a high priority for me – inclusion of everybody.

So for me today, the afternoon went from delighting in the way we all worshiped and prayed together to the brink of tears when the Traditional Plan came out 56 votes ahead of the One Church Plan in the priority voting. Believe me, I still feel hopeful, but the wind got knocked out of my sail.

I can’t imagine being church where all the parts of the Body are not present and fully involved. The songs today would not have been as powerful if there weren’t voices from all around the world singing in their heart languages. The rhythm would not have been as joyful if it wasn’t for the clapping of hands in different beats, the movement of feet in varying patterns of steps, the notes of many versions of the same songs.

I want to learn from you, especially if your way of doing something is not the way I’m used to working. I want to sing with you, whether or not either one of us can carry a tune or know the song. I want to grow in discipleship with you, especially if your understanding of your relationship with God through Jesus Christ is different from mine. I want to pray with you even though you might cry out to God, the Father, and I prefer God, the Creator. I want to commune with you despite the fact that you prefer to kneel and receive the elements from silver containers, and I want one loaf of gluten-free bread without hand sanitizer. I want to dance with you, even if you don’t like liturgical movement in worship.

That’s church. That’s living as disciples of Jesus Christ who can transform the world, not keep it at status quo – because that’s what happens when people are excluded and our church becomes a place of privilege, not grace.

A day of prayer and worship started this General Conference experience inside The Dome in St. Louis. Sandwiched between a middle and high school volleyball tournament this weekend and a monster truck show that begins as soon as we leave, United Methodists from around the world spent six hours today offering general prayers of intercession for the work of this General Conference and specific times of prayer for those in the four major regions of The UMC: our churches and communities. We prayed in the styles and languages of our fellow United Methodists in Europe and Eurasia. I didn’t know until today that the original language of “How Great Thou Art” was Swedish. We prayed – with no Power Point needed as one of the Bishops said – for Africa where health, education and women’s empowerment were among the shared concerns. We prayed for The Philippines where HIV/AIDS, poverty and tribal fighting were in our prayers. We prayed for the United States with evangelism and making disciples among our concerns.

There were two extremely powerful moments for me. First, at the close of all four sections of prayers for parts of our global Connection, we were invited to join our voices in Tongsung Kido (pray aloud). The Discipleship Ministries website describes this style of prayer as popular in Korean congregations among others. Usually the congregation is given a specific topic or theme of petition or supplication and a specific time period. Then all pray aloud at the same time. Our Bishops led us, all coming to the front of the stage and praying in their various heart languages. This picture captures the moment. The power of that prayer radiated within my soul.

Then, at the end of the day of prayer, we were invited to close in the same way the Commission on a Way Forward ended their work together. Rather than pass the peace as most congregations normally would at the appropriate time in the Service of Holy Communion, we were encouraged to go up to one another and speak the following: “If I have done anything to intentionally or unintentionally cause you harm, forgive me. The peace of Christ be with you.”

I knew where I had to start. I moved to a particular person. As soon as I started to call the person’s name and utter “…if I have done anything…” the tears formed in my eyes. I barely got the words out.

Outside, on all four corners of the intersection at the only entry and exit for us, were “Christian” folks from Westboro Baptist Church, Topeka, KS. As you can imagine when the website name with their schedule is too hateful to type here, their signs and words were filled with anger and hurt. Yet there was no way out of The Dome without receiving their wrath. As you walked by, things were shouted, things that one supposed Christian should never say to another. As we walked past tonight, it was “You’re going to hell and Jesus will be laughing ’cause you should have known better.”

Their news release begins: THE GOSPEL OF THE LORD JESUS CHRIST TO BE PREACHED IN CLOSE PROXIMITY TO UNITED METHODIST CHURCH SPECIAL SESSION WAY FORWARD CONFERENCE. It ends: GOD HATES LYING METHODISTS!

I am so thankful for this denomination that raised me, that taught me to value the entire multitude of voices (and opinions) that come from all around the world to pray, sing, worship and work in mission together.

I am so thankful for an understanding of grace that tells me I can go to those I feel I may have intentionally or unintentionally harmed or been harmed by and offer forgiveness.

I am so thankful that God called me to this moment in the life of our church when we have an opportunity to model to the world a different way of living together in community. Will we hear God’s voice and respond with all our prayers being spoken in different languages and with various understandings at the same time yet offering such a powerful witness that your soul quivers with the thought of what God can do through us in the world? Or will we continue to utter harmful words to each other, shouting that one side is right and the other wrong? Will we be the voices raised in Tongsung Kido or those gathered on the street corners?

Each of us must make a choice…and the world is watching

I’ve been praying for a moment of conviction in this walk toward the Called United Methodist General Conference. Too often I’ve talked, been in meetings, shared stories and information thinking that the conviction I was seeking had to do with the future direction of the institution of The UMC, even though it is clear that the institution has to change. My mind has been focused on the details: definition of marriage, ordination demands, funding of ministries, pensions, connection of local churches to the larger body. You can get lost in those details. God can get lost in those details.

A short time ago, in the middle of this dark night, there was a revelation. This journey is not about specific votes that will be cast and counted over the next week. This journey is mine to walk toward God. It is a journey for each of us who call ourselves United Methodist to walk toward God.

Most people will say, just as the Associated Press did yesterday in an article, that we are about to cast our votes to decide the future of the denomination. Yes, that is the earthly process. Yet tonight, in the stillness of these early morning hours, I have finally realized that for me this is about how I see the call of God on my life. How do I walk forward toward the God I want to reflect in the world through my faith in Jesus Christ?

So tonight, despite all my years of talking about it, I finally realize what all this is about.

This is not a vote on full participation of persons who are LGBTQ+ in the life of The United Methodist Church. This is a personal witness as to how I see Jesus’ call to be Beloved Community at work in the world. It is my testimony about how Jesus came into my heart and called me to be a part of living his message in order to leave the world better for those I walk with and for future generations.

It’s not about the Wesleyan Covenant Association desiring a more traditional church or the Love Your Neighbor Coalition advocating a more progressive theology. It’s about Martha learning to walk amid all the voices, better define her understanding of this man named Jesus, and realize that God calls us all to be community together – Beloved Community together – where I have been called to a role based upon my understanding of scripture, the traditions of the church that I hold dear, my personal life experiences and my times of clear reasoning – as few as they may seem these days.

It’s not just about gender identity and sexual orientation. It’s about sexism, racism, ageism, colonialism, ableism, lookism, sizeism and all the other -isms. God has never called us to be divided, but we have over centuries created multitudes of separation. This journey is about Martha learning to live differently – as a Christian called to bring forth the Kingdom of God here on this earth right now.

It’s not about preserving an institution. If a decision comes that might change my participation in The United Methodist Church as I know and love it, I will grieve. I will mourn. I am United Methodist to the core. If the denomination splinters, a part of me will die. If I am called to leave, a part of me will die. I’ve been considering that possibility for years and only in the last few months have I truly realized that even if the denomination changes drastically, my foundations of faith will not. I will still believe that faith and social action must go hand-in-hand. I will still believe that John Wesley had it right when he preached that we had to care for the whole person in order to help people hear the Gospel message. I will still believe in grace. I will still know that God’s got all this stuff and my job is to figure out how to live in the example of Jesus.

It’s not about a vote – no matter how many people tell me it is. It’s not about who will leave or who will stay – no matter how many people tell me it is. It’s not about apportionments or church attendance numbers. It’s not about doctrine or the church’s constitution. It’s about my role and yours in the Body of Christ, not an individual building or polity of a particular denomination. It’s about coming to understand who God is calling me to be as I try to move on toward perfection. And boy will that still take a tremendous amount of work and energy.  

The Spirit’s got a lot more work to do in me.

Yesterday was the hardest day yet in my journey toward the 2019 Called United Methodist General Conference Session.  It’s been a long, difficult road for many personal and denominational reasons.  Yesterday, all the frustrations and pain brought me to a tipping point.

I have said it to almost every group I’ve spoken with: this is by far the hardest work any of us serving on delegations from Annual Conferences have ever undertaken on behalf of the church.

• It is physically tiring:  long hours of preparation, travel, difficult conversations and relationship building.
• It is mentally challenging:  trying to listen intently to a wide variety of voices, reading and processing pages of legislative language, blogs, email and letters, attempting to become more culturally aware of the needs and understandings of our fellow United Methodists around the world.
• It is emotionally draining:  keeping up with family and work demands while spending hours helping local congregations, individuals, pastors and staff teams deal with challenging conversations, crying with some and being extremely frustrated with others, having your words taken out of context and dissenting comments shouted all while trying to remain on the outside a non-anxious leader at the same time the extreme introvert on the inside wants my knees to quit shaking and the tears to stay away until I get to my car.
• It can be spiritually destructive:  you can only be told so many times that your personal life choices may not honor God – especially when those speaking have no idea their generalities apply to you – before you begin to question your own faith.

Maybe I had a very unrealistic expectation that by this time, five days before the start of the General Conference session, people would have shared what they wanted to say in regard to support for one plan or another and the volume of email would slow.  I was wrong.  Maybe I thought the chastising looks would disappear from people’s faces and the hurtful words would turn to prayers for safe travel and endurance.  I as wrong.

Yesterday in a face-to-face conversation I was asked how I felt about “this topic.”  The conversation started about women in leadership as the individual was sharing that a young couple in her non-United Methodist church had left because a female had been called to serve as lead pastor.  Knowing I was headed to St. Louis in a few days, the person moved to the question of full participation of persons who are LGBTQ+ in the life of the church.

“So how do you feel about all this?”

I gave my standard response when I’m not quite sure of the perspective of the other person.  “The Jesus I choose to follow calls me to love everybody.  I believe all of us have gifts and graces to serve in ministry and live out the Gospel message.”

A questioning glare, moment of silence and nod of the head followed.  I’ve experienced that same response many times.  It is better than the people who just turn and walk away. As I stood there before this person, I’ll admit I momentarily questioned whether my understanding of the man we call Jesus was right or wrong.

Early in the evening there was an attached document to an email describing all those who differ from the writer in their understanding of the Bible as “enslaved by Satan.” According to this person, I am there – shackled and tethered.  And that was the last letter I could bear to read yesterday.

My soul is weary.

Last night I had to disconnect from it all.  If I believed even half the things that people have been saying about who belongs in the church…if my understanding of Christianity was based on all the arguments I’ve been reading and hearing…there is no possible way I could even enter the doors of a church sanctuary.  I would be unwelcome in their congregations.

Pray for me.  Pray for the other 863 delegates like me who find themselves in similar personal space – and soon in the same physical space – where doubt surfaces, where patience and endurance wane, where relationships change, where faith is tested – yet where the Spirit can transform.

“It is said that when Martin Luther would slip into one of his darker places (which happened a lot…), he would comfort himself by saying “Martin be calm, you are baptized.”  I suspect his comfort came not from recalling the moment of baptism itself, or in relying on baptism as a sort of magic charm, but in remembering what his baptism signified: His identity as a beloved child of God.” – Rachel Held Evans

 

“The church is not a group of people who believe all the same things; the church is a group of people caught up in the same story, with Jesus at the center.” – Rachel Held Evans, Inspired: Slaying Giants, Walking on Water, and Loving the Bible Again

This three-year journey with Mom and her illnesses which are making her weaker and more frail has been intricately linked with my journey with the 2016-2019 United Methodist General Conference cycle.  Mom’s first health crisis came in June 2015, the same time I was elected to the 2016 Virginia General Conference delegation and ended up having this role of chair of the delegation.  Two days before the first delegation meeting in July 2015, my cousin, Regina, and I took Mom to the ER at Roanoke Memorial. Mom was hospitalized and it became clear that she couldn’t return home to care for herself.  The move to Culpepper became one of not just a short-term rehab stay but a long-term care situation. Yesterday morning, Mom was sure I was Gina and we were in the Roanoke hospital.

I left the hospital in Roanoke late on Friday afternoon that July weekend to return to Glen Allen for our first delegation meeting to prepare for the 2016 General Conference. I’ve walked these journeys with one foot in both worlds. Since beginning this reflection Thursday night/Friday morning on these past three years, I have seen very clearly once again the beautiful, amazing connections of this denomination that I hold so dear.

The very first person who took communion to Mom when she arrived in Culpeper is very involved in the Wesleyan Covenant Association.  One of the first people I heard from on Friday is the spouse of a staff person from our UMC General Board of Church and Society.  Those of you who are United Methodist automatically know that those two groups are pretty much always at odds with each other because of our differing understandings of what it means to be faithful in living out our Wesleyan call to holiness of heart and life, works of piety and works of mercy.

Folks who have called, emailed, posted messages and sent texts this weekend have been from churches large and small across the Virginia Conference. They are folks with very traditional and very progressive understandings of marriage  and ordination – and everywhere in between. They are not churched and of every church. Expressions of love and care have come from people that I have loved and valued from very early in my life until today, people who represent every part of the spectrum of understandings of our relationship with God and of how we are called to be Christ in the world today.

Some of those who have sent expressions of concern this weekend have traveled with me since second grade when our schools in Henry County were integrated. That ‘s when my friend Ronnie was the first to walk me home from school – the original inspiration for the title, “Walking Martha Home.”  That day we were black and white 7-year olds, each living on the edges of the color dividing line of our little village, walking together with no recognition of why people were looking at us strangely.  That journey took many turns over the years, including 3 friends who died from complications of HIV/AIDS. Among those who have reached out this weekend are friends who have strong feelings about the cause of those illnesses and friends who have dedicated their lives to ministries of compassion in AIDS clinics.

Among those who have reached out are women whose journeys took them through ordination and into pastoral church leadership at the same time I was being told there would be no support for me to enter that process.  And there was love shown from churches where sadly I know a female would still find great challenge toward acceptance.

There are people who have reached out and loved our family who will never be able to understand how I reached a point in my faith journey where I believe certain things that are so very opposite their strong held beliefs. There are people who have reached out this weekend who would never walk in the same places that I walk, who would never reach out to some of the same people with whom I love to spend time.  There are people who called and cared for us over the last few days who will never change their minds on anything – from presidential politics to what to have for dinner, but I love them all just the same. The one thing I know for sure is that I don’t want to be a part of the church where all those voices are not represented.

Unique people from all places and backgrounds with different understandings of who God is and what it is that Jesus calls us to model in the world today are what has made me who I am.  All this has made the United Methodist Church the place I love, the foundation that has shaped and formed me. I can’t imagine being a part of a church, a meal table or a family gathering where the variety of voices, the divergent opinions, are not present.

I would not be the person I am today if all of the different voices had not been a part of my learning and understanding. I wouldn’t be the person I am if it hadn’t been for the potluck dinner offered by a Pentecostal Holiness group when I was a teenager which included a very long prayer in a variety of tongues before we could eat. Of course, all of us teenagers opened our eyes and looked at each other like we were totally scared to death but that’s a part of my faith journey. I wouldn’t be the person I am today if my world religions professor in college hadn’t made us go visit in the home of a Hindu family, participate in a Buddhist retreat and a sent us off to experience a variety of other religious traditions. I wouldn’t be the person I am today if I hadn’t followed one of my social work graduate professors to River of Life Church for a conversation about releasing the demons of addiction from persons who were dealing with alcohol and drugs.  Yes, an authentic conversation about releasing demons. I wouldn’t be the person I am today if my mother hadn’t told me over and over as I was growing up to – and yes, this is totally politically incorrect but I’m going to say it just as she did – to “be nice to the drunks, the prostitutes and the mentally retarded.” I still can’t figure out the prostitute part of that….

I certainly wouldn’t be the person I am today if God hadn’t seen fit to point me in directions where I have had wonderful relationships and opportunities to be with people in all kinds of faith communities, in all kinds of places.   So I cannot see this three year journey of concerns around Mom’s life and the future of our United Methodist church as separate. They are woven tightly together.

This weekend was to have been spent with fellow Lay Servants at the Conference Academy focusing on lay pastoral care and with the congregation at Grace UMC in Manassas celebrating Older Adult Sunday. An awesome clergy and lay team took over the Lay Servant course.  Late last night I received a note from the class letting me know they were thinking of me and our family.   They practiced what they learned very well! The team at Grace UMC cared for today’s message while one of them reached out to me multiple times to let us know we were covered in prayer.  As I drove back to Culpeper very early this morning – going by and thinking about all of those gathering later in United Methodist Churches along my route – I offered God thanks for how my life was connected to each person in those pews and all the saints before them.

When I was given the opportunity to suggest hymns for the service at Grace today, I chose a favorite. Every time I hear the words I am called once again to the Great Commandment and my understanding of Jesus’ instruction to love God and neighbor.  It calls me to the community of believers that I want to be part of and gather with around the world.

Mom cried earlier when her doctor of Indian descent told her she could go home. I cried when I read a note from one of my elementary school friends from the “other side” of the Fieldale color dividing line. I pray that our understanding of church can grow wide enough that we can all continue to journey together as faithful disciples with differing understandings but so much to learn from and offer to one another.  I’ll cry then when that decision is made…or when it’s not.

Much love and thanks to all who have cared for us these past few days and in the words of that hymn sung at Grace and in many other places this day…

Here in this place new light is streaming

Now is the darkness vanished away

See in this space our fears and our dreamings

Brought here to you in the light of this day

Gather us in, the lost and forsaken

Gather us in, the blind and the lame

Call to us now and we shall awaken

We shall arise at the sound of our name

 

We are the young, our lives are a mystery

We are the old who yearn for your face

We have been sung throughout all of history

Called to be light to the whole human race

Gather us in, the rich and the haughty

Gather us in, the proud and the strong

Give us a heart so meek and so lowly

Give us the courage to enter the song

 

Here we will take the wine and the water

Here we will take the bread of new birth

Here you shall call your sons and your daughters

Call us anew to be salt for the earth

Give us to drink the wine of compassion

Give us to eat the bread that is you

Nourish us well and teach us to fashion

Lives that are holy and hearts that are true

 

Not in the dark of buildings confining

Not in some heaven light years away

But here in this place the new light is shining

Now is the kingdom, now is the day

Gather us in and hold us forever

Gather us in and make us your own

Gather us in, all peoples together

Fire of love in our flesh and our bones

“Gather Us In” by Marty Haugen

A little more than three years ago I sat in a hospital room in Culpeper with Mom as she battled pneumonia.  On her worst day, she continually questioned why God had not taken her, why she was still living.  My response was that none of us know when God may take us – in a minute, tomorrow, next week, 10 years. Mom responded with a clear, “Three years.  It will be three years.”

She’s never been too far off with her “premonitions” and feelings.

Tonight I sit with her in a room at the same hospital, just across the hall from where we were three years ago.  Between her dry coughing and attempts to remove the oxygen from her nose, she dreams. I’m trying to figure out the stories as she mumbles words and phrases.  “Upstairs,” “Bring them all in,” and “Thank you, darlin’” are the most clear.

As I watch her struggle with the monitor wires and way too large hospital gown, I wonder who she is seeing in those dreams. And I remember, “Three years. It will be three years.”

Three years ago I ended that blog post with these words:

“As you read this, take a moment and pray NOW.  Pray for those in your family who need to feel the love and care of God’s hand.  Pray for your friends and neighbors.  Pray for your church and community.  Pray for our denomination and its leaders.  Pray for our country and the world.  Pray for the Republican Presidential candidate debate, or for the Nationals to come back up in the MLB standings, or for the end to the wild fires in the West.  Pray that every life matters.  Pray that the shark attacks off the coast of North Carolina have ended. Just pray. NOW.”

Isn’t it amazing how some things never change and how much other parts of life do?  One thing is constant: pray NOW!