Embracing.

My star word for the year 2025 is “embracing”. For those of you who are new to star words, they are an Epiphany practice in which everyone receives a word (usually attached to a star). In the same way the magi were guided by a star, this word can be a guide for us in our prayer time throughout the coming year, serving to inspire or challenge. I have to admit that when I first picked up this word, my first thought was to wonder if God had me pegged as a hugger. I am not, and it would surely take me outside of my comfort zone to learn to become one.

So I prayed about this word….embracing. And then God showed up.

Last week we encountered this year’s version of snowmageddon. In Texas this usually involves some sort of precipitation, freezing rain, sleet, snow, and usually all three leaving the roads a big mess. It also means cold temperatures, which for many in Texas, brings to mind concerns about the power grid and whether we would have outages. In addition, during these events you can usually count on the disappearance of certain grocery staples, eggs, milk, bread, and toilet paper (although why people think they will need that much more toilet paper in the cold, I’m not sure).

Then the church I serve stepped in and stepped up. Many were concerned about folks needing a place to stay. While we don’t have a huge amount of folks in our county who are experiencing homelessness, the numbers have been growing. There are many who live below the poverty line and may struggle to keep heat going in their current living conditions or may not be able to get enough food to last while roads are in bad shape. In addition, there is always concern about power outages.

Immediately folks started planning how we would keep the church open and how we could accommodate people that may be in need. Food showed up, air mattresses, cots, and blankets showed up, and we put the word out to the community. The firefighters who were going to be on duty during the entirety of the bad weather showed up and asked how they could help. The Red Cross loaned us a few extra cots. People from the community stopped by to ask what we needed.

God showed up in a big way to show me what it looks like to be fully “embracing” of our neighbors and our community and it was humbling to see this church fully embrace God’s call. Embracing our community means that we work to make sure that all our neighbors’ needs are met, even and especially their basic physical needs. Embracing our community means we are prepared to provide hospitality no matter who walks through the door or why. Embracing our community means being a place where all our neighbors can come, both to give of themselves to care for those around them and to receive care from others, where we learn to embrace each other. Embracing our community means feeding people, feeding their bodies and in sharing the love of Christ with them, feeding their souls.

I pray God will continue to guide me with this word, continue to challenge and teach me, and that God will continue to show up in ways that leave me in awe, just like last week.

“Laughter through tears is my favorite emotion.”  I can quote almost every line in the movie Steel Magnolias.  This is one of my favorites. Laughter through tears, after all, is one of MY favorite emotions.  Emotions are complex and often not fully one or the other, but both simultaneously: joy in the midst of sorrow, hope in the midst of grief.  This is what I preach at funerals, the hope found in the love and grace of Jesus Christ in the midst of mourning and loss. 

I feel this dichotomy of emotions right now in my ministry with the United Methodist Church.  I love the UMC and just as the individuals who comprise this denomination, it is both beautiful and broken, divine and sometimes divided.  I deeply lament the division that has happened among us, among the people of the church.  Although I pray for fruitful ministry for the many people who are making the difficult decision to leave the denomination, I still grieve that they will no longer be a part of the UMC, and although I know God is at work in the hearts of colleagues and friends, I am saddened that we will not be working together within our denominational connection. 

In spite of the overwhelming sense of loss I feel at the departure of those who are leaving, I also feel a profound sense of hope for the future.  The story of our faith always includes new life, from loss something new will always be born.  We belong to Christ’s church, and because I know God can do something as big as the resurrection, God can bring to fruition something new and fruitful within the UMC. 

As I have pondered what the church will look like in the future, there are a few things that strike me:

1. We can be innovative in new ways of BEING the church.  Never was this more apparent than when we encountered a world-wide pandemic.  Churches very quickly pivoted (remember when the word of 2020 was “PIVOT”?) and started to do church very differently.  The resourcefulness utilized to bring church online, outside, in houses, etc. was amazing!  I have no doubt that even as tired as many pastors are from the season of Covid, creative minds will be working to find new ways to be the church, to nurture disciples, to worship, and to share Jesus in new ways.
2. While the generosity of the UMC in allowing congregations to leave the denomination with their property will undoubtedly be a hurdle to overcome in many ways as we seek to provide a UMC presence to as many as possible, this could also provide a sense of freedom.  Too many times I have seen churches who designate the bulk of their budget to an older building with lots of repair needs, only to actually utilize it for an hour or two each week.  Because of the expense of repairs and regular expenses, churches aren’t able to plan for remodeling that might be needed to bring new ministries in.  What might church look like if we didn’t have this expense?  What might church look like in a coffee shop, restaurant, laundromat, or park?
3. We have an opportunity in moving ahead to bear witness in the world to the power of the Holy Spirit in uniting a diverse people in mission and ministry.  Those of us in the US have felt the weight of division polarizing our country and devolving into what could be better referred to as tribalism or sectarianism, people not only identifying with people in their own group or side, but displaying a real contempt and hatred of those who identify differently and holding the belief not only that others are wrong, but are a threat.  I believe this has been seeping into our churches (not just the UMC).  People who identify as traditionalist, centrist, and progressive have all expressed a desire to remain in the UMC.  How might we come together to live into the fullness of the glory given to us as Jesus prayed, “The glory that you have given me I have given them, so that they may be one, as we are one,  I in them and you in me, that they may become completely one, so that the world may know that you have sent me and have loved them even as you have loved me.” (John 17:22-23 NRSVUE)

New opportunities, grace, and hope abound as we look ahead.  While we lament the state of things as they exist today, let us continue to have “laughter through tears”, or a profound hope through Jesus Christ in the midst of our lament. What is your hope for the future of the UMC? 

TM

You will come of age with our young nation
We’ll bleed and fight for you, we’ll make it right for you
If we lay a strong enough foundation
We’ll pass it on to you, we’ll give the world to you
And you’ll blow us all away
Someday, someday
Yeah, you’ll blow us all away
Someday, someday

“Dear Theodosia”, the song from the musical Hamilton by Lin Manuel Miranda, has been playing in my mind throughout the past few days.  As both Aaron Burr and Alexander Hamilton welcome their new children to the world, they vow to fight to make the world a better place for their children, a place in which their hopes and dreams will be realized, which is a familiar sentiment shared by so many parents. We now stand on the precipice of having the first black/south Asian, female Vice President of the United States, and I cannot help but think of the sacrifice and struggle that so many women endured to get to this point. 

As a young girl growing up, I had a strong mother who told me from the time I was small that I could be anything I wanted to be when I grew up.  And yet, she was still hesitant in believing this herself, in saying those words to me.  For my mother, there was hope that I could grow up and be what I wanted, that women would be treated as equal in our world, and yet in her lifetime, she had not known this to be a truth.  It was not until I was 11 years old that we, as a country, even saw the first nomination of a woman for Vice President in a major party with the nomination of Geraldine Ferraro. I can still remember what a huge deal this was for some of the women in my life and how much it meant to me to see someone who looked like me in a position of leadership.    As I became a mother to three girls, I spoke the same words of hope to each of them, reiterating the fact that they each had an opportunity to become what their heart’s desired.  And yet, even in their lifetimes, they found no representation in many places, they found a world in which there still was not equality. 

For all the work that has been done, there are some ceilings that have yet to be cracked.   Even at this point in time, with all the strides that our nation has made, according to the World Economic Gender Gap Report (http://reports.weforum.org/global-gender-gap-report-2020/), the United States is a paltry 53^rd out of the 153 economies studied worldwide and at the rate we are going, it will take well over a century to reach parity.  In our government, those elected positions that hold power to create policy and affect economic change, the House has only 23.2% women and the Senate only 26%.  Throughout the country, women hold just 28.9% of statewide elective executive offices.

Representation matters.  It matters that young girls see strong women leaders as role models.  It is no accident that even Disney has moved from a genre of movies a century ago, in which a fair (white) princess waits for a handsome prince to rescue her and provide for her, to a model of the modern princess, strong young women of different races and cultures who are smart and capable heroes in their own right.  Too often, it is difficult for girls to imagine their own success, their own ability to achieve, when they have not seen others pave the way.    

This is why, for me, there were tears this past weekend as Vice President-elect, Kamala Harris, stepped on stage and gave a speech.  “But while I may be the first woman in this office, I won’t be the last.  Because every little girl watching tonight sees that this is a country of possibilities.”  Representation matters.  Regardless of any political affiliation, this moment is an affirmation to every little girl that one of the highest offices in our land can be achieved.  As Harris reflected in her speech about every woman who had fought for her right to stand there, she recognized, “I stand on their shoulders.”  If we lay a strong enough foundation, we’ll pass it on to you, we’ll give the world to you.  Today she stands on a multitude of shoulders, and tomorrow there will be a multitude of women who will stand on hers. 

I want so much for my girls, as I know every parent does.  I want to look at them in the eyes and tell them, in all honesty, that they can do anything.  I also want my girls to feel the magnitude of that freedom they have, a freedom that lends itself to both wild and amazing possibilities and also calls them to a heartfelt responsibility to continue to make the world better for everyone.  There is still work to be done.  I’m ready.  Are you?

Total transparency here, I’m growing fatigued of technology….fast.  I miss people, I miss hugs, I miss face to face conversations, I miss holding hands with someone as I’m praying with them, I miss hospital visits, I miss large gatherings over a meal.  This season of COVID-19 is hard and each time I sit down to do research on new technology needed or to start recording something on Facebook live while I try to talk to a camera which gives me no feedback like a room full of people would, I can almost feel the physical pain of it in the pit of my stomach, the pain of a life interrupted, a life changed by social distancing. 

In the midst of all of this pain, however, I am keenly aware that this is an opportunity.  I was reminded by a friend this week of a quote by Rahm Emanuel, “You never want a serious crisis to go to waste.” (This has also been attributed to Winston Churchill prior to Emanuel, but I digress.)  Emanuel goes on to say, “And what I mean by that is it’s an opportunity to do things that you think you could not do before.”  In the midst of pain, in the midst of suffering, in the midst of this crazy and unsettling world right now, new ideas, new ways of doing things are being born.  This is especially true of the church. 

I am reminded of my own birth experiences with my children.  I gave birth naturally and without pain medication two and a half times.  I count that half because with my first child the epidural only worked down half of my body – it still hurt and it counts!  I’m not going to lie, it hurt a lot.  There was pain and lots of breathing and a few screams here and there.  When you’re in the midst of that much pain, it’s hard to see that it will ever end, even though in your mind you know logically it will.  And when the acute pain ended, something new was born, something beautiful and blessed and life-altering.  There were still afterpains, my body had taken nine months to get to the point at which I gave birth and it would take many more to return to its “new normal”, but with me and along side of me was a new creation, one that brought joy and hope and new perspective. 

I see this in the church right now.  Right  now I am tired, in pain, and hurting, but I have faith that God is at work in this and will work through this to birth something new, new ways of connecting with people, new expressions of worship and new perspectives on how we as Christ followers can be the church in our communities.  One of the liturgical milestones that signals we are heading into the summer months for me is Pentecost.  In just a few short weeks we will proclaim the power of the Holy Spirit, we will remember the story in Acts 2 of the disciples who felt the Spirit blow like a rush of wind upon them, almost as if it was blowing them out the door to proclaim the good news in a multitude of languages so all could understand.  The church will birth something new through this pandemic, something that will reach new people to proclaim the good news in a way that, although previously untapped, will speak to people in a way that they understand.  

It’s hard to let your mind wander to the furthest reaches of creativity when you are in survival mode, when day to day worries take up time and attention.  I continue to pray each day that I will be able to reach the point where, in my particular context, I am able to clearly see that beautiful new creation that is being birthed.  I pray that the Holy Spirit will fall on everyone in the congregations I serve, that they might be alert to the “newness” of church all around them.  And I pray for the church as a whole, that it will be able to proclaim the story of our faith which includes both pain and suffering as well as resurrection and new birth, all of which are intertwined with the presence and the work of God.     

My mom used to tell me when I was a teenager that I had mood swings like a pretzel.  While I wasn’t exactly sure how a mood could be like a pretzel, and the phrase usually elicited an eye roll from me, I’m sure it had something to do with my overly emotional and dramatic responses to anything going on around me.  Last week I felt like I had mood swings like a pretzel.  Sure, Holy Week for pastors usually involves the gamut of emotion, from the entry Palm Sunday, through the anger of Jesus in the temple, to the tenderness with which he shared a meal with his friends and washed their feet, to betrayal, denial, death, and then a joyous Easter morning when we find Jesus risen.  I expect to be emotional during this week, I expect to be tired and busy, but last week was particularly difficult.     

Easter arrived on Sunday as I celebrated worship with my congregations.  But, truth be told, it didn’t feel much like Easter.  Thank goodness that God doesn’t rely on ornate altars, sanctuaries filled with lilies, egg hunts, Easter bonnets, our best dress, or even our exuberant joy in order to raise Jesus from the grave, because I really had none of that.  By the time I got to Easter Sunday, I was pretty depleted.  I was mourning not being with my church family, I was sad that all of my plans for how my first Easter with these wonderful people were down the drain.  I was frustrated at the thought that I’m not doing enough to help people during this time of crisis.  I don’t write this because I relish being overly vulnerable about it; after all, this is my job, my life, my calling.  I write this because sometimes it’s ok just to say we’re not ok.  Sometimes the joy we feel as Easter people comes in waves, in small doses when we least expect it, and not on a designated day that we have determined will be a day of great celebration. 

I felt Easter this year on Tuesday, two days after the actual celebration.  It was a day that started like many others, a quick workout and some coffee.  But then I had the opportunity to see glimpses of new life around me, glimpses of hope and a peek into the empty tomb.  I got to deliver money one of the churches had collected to pay bills for several families who had lost jobs, I got to pick up hand sewn masks from several congregants which will be donated to various locations in the community, and I got to deliver devotion books for several people who have not left their homes.  I cannot tell you how much good it did my heart to see their smiling faces through the glass doors as I left books on their porches.  There were “air hugs” and there was laughter!  When I went by one of the churches it was surrounded by beautifully blooming flowers as if God had put a lovely frame around the church building. 

While I know the coming days, weeks (and probably months?) ahead will be filled with new challenges and there will be plenty of times in which I will have “mood swings like a pretzel”, I am comforted by the fact that we serve a God who has encountered it all, who has laughed and celebrated the love of two people at a wedding, who has felt the sting and hurt of betrayal, who has felt the love of friendship, who has mourned the loss of a loved one, and who has experienced all that humanly life can offer.  So God gets me, mood swings and all.   

Tomorrow is Maundy Thursday.  I have struggled with Holy Week this year; trying to put together worship experiences that convey the human connection and congregational participation that is at the heart of worship in the midst of social distancing, when relying on technology to make that connection is key, has been difficult, at best.  How do believers come to the table when the table is a computer screen?  How do you wash one another’s feet when the act of physically being near someone can be harmful?

On Maundy Thursday we remember the mandate that Jesus gave his friends, to love one another as he not only taught them but showed them, once again, God’s intent for humanity. Love one another. Such simple words to say and yet such a profoundly difficult concept for us to live.  We read in the Gospel of John, Jesus “took off his outer robe, and tied a towel around himself. Then he poured water into a basin and began to wash the disciples’ feet and to wipe them with the towel that was tied around him.”  It is in this most humble of acts that we see the self-sacrificing love that we are to offer. This year the way in which we express this love toward each other has shifted drastically; instead of being present, caring for one another in distinctly physical ways, we will express our love by remaining apart, by removing ourselves from our daily lives outside our homes in order to care for the most vulnerable among us.  Instead of eating together at a table, we will eat bread with our families or alone.  Instead of washing one another’s feet, we will wash our own hands.  Because these acts are acts of love in this time of global pandemic, they are holy.  We serve a God who is present with us regardless of our location.  As we gather in our homes, God’s presence will turn any kitchen or coffee table into an altar where we come to take the bread and drink from the cup and will transform ordinary elements of bread and juice into the tangible love that nourishes our soul and gives us strength to continue to do what it takes to care for one another. 

So ultimately, does it matter if all of my worship plans are changed for Holy Week?  No, God will show up, and I have a feeling, we will see God show up in amazing ways we couldn’t ever anticipate.