Retired (Again)

Two years ago, I wasn't looking for a full-time ministry.  I had retired as the COVID pandemic was subsiding in the fall of 2021.  Providing pulpit supply in a regular rotation to nearby congregations of the United Church of Christ was enough for me.  I was prompted to do this as I remembered retired pastors from my youth who continued to serve after they had officially retired.  Those pastors felt some obligation to the church that had ordained them.  They brought a wealth of pastoral experience when they came to serve in the little village church where I grew up.  Two years ago, I wasn't seeking to serve as an interim pastor in a full-time ministry.

Even so, the members of St. Peter's United Church of Christ in New Haven, Missouri sought me out.  They were persistent in asking me to "pray about it."  And I discerned this to be a setting where my gifts might be useful.  So, from June 16, 2024 - February 15, 2026, I served as the interim pastor and teacher of this congregation.  It was a blessed time for me.  My leadership was received with enthusiasm.  I served as a consultant in the interim process, relying often on the wisdom of others who have navigated through this type of specialized ministry successfully.  The members at St. Peter's UCC and I grew to love one each other.  The church, which had known great sadness and some deep disappointments, began to flourish.  But, after twenty months, I discerned that it was time for me to go--to retire again.  We were settling in.  Things were becoming too comfortable.  The church needed another pastor for the next leg of the transition.  And so, we said goodbye a week ago.  It was truly a "good goodbye."

I feel a bit lost now without the relationships I had enjoyed.  I miss these people--these brothers and sisters, siblings in Christ.  I am grieving.  The same has been true in every setting when I have left over the forty-four years since my ordination.  Some might say I'm too legalistic about endings, that my boundaries are too rigid.  Some might think I never really cared about the members, but that's not true.  I cared (and still care) deeply; but for the good of the church and its future, I leave and move on.

I give thanks for those with whom God has called me to share life and ministry.  I remember them in my silent prayers.  I ache when I discover that former members are going through a difficult time.  I grieve when I read of those who have died.  But, it is not my place to be engaged as I was before.  I go, so that God may raise up others with other gifts to serve with Christ's church.

I am retired (again).  I'm finding my way.  I'm resting.  I'm reconnecting with old friends.  I'm waiting for spring, so that I can be outside.  And, through it all, I am carrying in my heart many fond memories of ministry with God's people.  I am praying in the words of the United Church of Christ's farewell liturgy, "that our time together and our parting are pleasing to God." 

God is present in every season of life--including this one; and I am blessed!

By Whose Authority?

Yesterday U.S. District Judge Kathryn Kimball Mizelle of the Middle District of Florida struck down the mask mandate for those traveling on airplanes, buses, trains, and other modes of public transportation.  The judge ruled that the Centers for Disease Control (CDC) did not possess the legal  authority to impose the mandate from February 2021 to the present.  That mandate had been extended several times, most recently, to May 3, 2022.  It had clearly been point of contention for those on the political right as well as the political left.  Now the mandate is history.  Many airlines were quick to make masks optional for their flight crews and passengers.  Personal freedom has finally prevailed!

In the 1960's, we were taught to be suspicious of any authority.  "Question authority" was the cry on the lips of the generations opposed to our government's engagement in the Vietnam war.  That fear of authority has been evident throughout the waves of the global pandemic created by COVID-19.  The conflict was fueled in the highest levels of the U.S. government as elected leaders discounted and disputed the counsel of scientists.  In every setting, including churches, many have longed for the return of personal freedom.  We demanded the freedom to choose how we would live our individual lives.  We resisted any and all external authority to inform us and shape our behaviors.  

Yes, yesterday was a decisive victory for all who have been longing to be free of restrictive public health mandates.  But now, the decisions for how we will live rest squarely on our individual hearts and minds.   Here's the question:  Who is your authority as you seek to be faithful?  

Jesus was also confronted by the question of authority (Mt. 21:23; Mk. 11:28; Lk. 20:2).  As a follower of Jesus, I find in him my greatest authority.  He models what it means to be responsibly free--not just for our individual lives but for that of the community and society and world where we live.   When I hear him say, "Love your neighbor as yourself," I realize that I must act responsibly with my liberty.  Love means yielding for the common good, caring for the vulnerable, and using freedom to strengthen community.   In practice that means I must be mindful and respectful of those who are working in public places (e.g., clerks in stores, flight crews, physicians and nurses, pastors, teachers) and for those who are not able to make such decisions for themselves.  There are many individuals around us who look to us for guidance and care.  Perhaps that was what the CDC was trying to do.  Now it is up to us.

Love your neighbor . . . 

The View from the Amistad Chapel

 On Sunday afternoon, I hope to be in the virtual congregation, attending the final worship service from the Amistad Chapel in Cleveland.  Many folks will be doing other things.  Most have had little connection with the chapel or with our church house, which has been home to the national headquarters of our denomination for three decades.  The chapel was dedicated to the memory of La Amistad, a slave ship that traveled from Sierra Leone in West Africa to Cuba with a precious cargo of fifty-three captive people in 1839.  There was a uprising on the ship as it neared its destination in July 1839.  The captain, the cook, and three Africans were killed.  Rather than return to Africa, the ship's owners sailed up the East Coast of the United States, hoping that the U.S. would restore order and return the ship to Cuba.  The Amistad was intercepted.  Some of the slaves escaped, but were soon caught,  All were eventually jailed in New Haven, CT.  A long, legal process with international aspects ensued.  The case finally reached the U.S. Supreme Court in 1841.  The court's decision set the captives free.  Our ancestors before we became the United Church of Christ joined that legal struggle to set these people free.  The Amistad Chapel was dedicated to that memory and to the hope that all will finally be free.

When we worshiped in the Amistad Chapel, we would pass the baptismal font to encircle the Communion table and listen for a word from the pulpit.  We would sit before the cross and sing the hymns of our faith.  We were the church in that space.  When I worshiped in the Amistad Chapel, I would always sit in a place where I could see outside through the huge plate glass windows.  The gospel stories of Jesus' love for all peoples and for the city came alive in the faces of those passing by.  The chapel was at ground level, and there I saw most clearly those for whom Jesus called us to care and to serve.  In many ways that view from the Amistad Chapel grounded our life as church.  It reminded us of our mission.

Soon the Church House and its chapel will be part of our denominational history.  We are on the move to a new space just a few blocks away, where the headquarters of the United Church of Christ will be housed on the eleventh floor of a downtown office complex.  This change is difficult for me.  I know we do not worship a building or a particular space.  We are called to adapt as we follow in faith.  But I will pray as we gather on Sunday afternoon that we will always remember that view from the Amistad Chapel--even when our sacred space is eleven stories above the streets of Cleveland.  I will pray that every setting of the United Church of Christ, including each one of its local churches, has a view that reminds us of those with whom Jesus Christ, the Head of the Church, calls us engage with love and justice to work for healing, for peace, for freedom for all.

May it be so!  May it be so!

On the Threshold of Something New

There only a few hours left.  Soon the days of 2021 will be all used up.  Time moves on.  We will soon turn the calendar page and reach the end.  It will be time for something new--a new calendar.  

For many years a good friend gave us a Japan Airlines calendar.  My friend died this year.  The space will hold a new, smaller calendar in 2022.  I still miss my friend.  Indeed, time moves on.

In the midst of some melancholy moments, I look forward today.  It is obvious that many of you are looking forward to tomorrow, to a new beginning in a new year.  This year, 2021, has been full of great challenges and some deep disappointments.  We had hoped it might have been different.  

Today, I am wishing a Happy New Year to everyone I meet.  But, that greeting is a wish, empty without action.  We stand at the threshold of something new.  We are offered the gift of more time.  If there is to be anything new and joyous about 2022, it will require that we are ready to embrace God's newness, to love in deed as well as in word, and to work hard for justice--"A Just World for All."

For too long we have been passive in our wishing and in our praying.  Tomorrow will not be different and the new will soon fade, if we do not apply ourselves in new ways.  When I turn the page and put away the old calendar, I will pledge to work for those causes and candidates that make the common good a priority.  I will pledge to work to strengthen my community and be a peacemaker to help to heal the world's brokenness.  I will pledge to respect everyone--even those with whom I strongly disagree.  I will offer my efforts, while there is yet time, to build others up with grace and by speaking the truth.

So, as we turn the page and hang an new calendar, as we step over the threshold into something new, there are these questions:  What do you pledge to do to embrace the newness?  How will you seek to live while there is yet time?  What is your vision for 2022 . . . and beyond?  

Happy New Year, my friends!

Happy New Year!  

A Crisis of Cooperation and Leadership

Earlier this week the news of a resignation was shared in our community.  Angie Hittson, Director of the Franklin County Health Department resigned to take another position with an area hospital.  Hittson had been with the local health department for fourteen years and had hoped to remain in the position until she retired.  From all indications she had run her department well and done an exceptional job through some very challenging times.  But Director Hittson is reported to have faced "daily verbal assaults, threats of violence and even death threats."  In resigning, she joined twelve others who left similar positions in our state since the pandemic began in 2020. 

Since Cole County Circuit Judge Daniel Green ruled that local health departments were given too much authority in issuing health orders in fighting the COVID-19 pandemic, politicians have moved in to fill the void.  To be sure, most of these leaders are not health care experts and epidemiologists,  In fact, they have often pitted themselves against the scientific community and helped to disseminate misinformation about the disease.  Rather than using their office to model cooperation and respect, their words and actions have added to the confusion that many feel.  Real leadership has been lacking.

Consider the recent responses of Franklin County's Presiding Commissioner, Tim Brinker.  All along Brinker has not wavered from the position of his party.   Choosing to be responsible for the common good has been resisted.  In responding to the threats that Hittson and others in her department faced, Commissioner Brinker referenced fear as the precipitating factor that drives people to speak and act in hateful, even violent ways.  Maybe.  But fear is no excuse for lashing out and harming others.   

In another news story the Presiding Commissioner indicated that he is planning to "apply pressure" to health professionals so that they promote a "healthy lifestyle."  Seriously?  Mr. Brinker wants individuals to make up their own minds about whether or not to receive the vaccines for COVID without governmental interference.  He offers a broader perspective.  To quote Brinker, "You know, there's no promotion of getting a healthy lifestyle, losing weight, being fit and eating right and getting enough sleep."  Such statements shift the focus and minimize the crisis we still face--ultimately a crisis of cooperation and leadership.

We could have done more to keep our community safe.  It starts at the top.  We can and must do better. 

Finding My Way

It's been well over two years since my last post.  So much has happened in the ensuing months--a serious health crisis, a global pandemic, too many deaths, and too much political rancor ripping apart people who once were close.  (At least, we were close enough to converse and to care for one another whether we agreed or not.)   As a wise woman once said of a difficult period in the life of her church, "It was not a happy time."  The past twenty-four months have not been a happy time for many of us.

It will soon be three weeks since my retirement from active ministry.  I left St. Peter's United Church of Christ at the end of last month and am now seeking a new path for my life.  The thirty-nine years since my ordination were blessed.  I've had the privilege and joy of serving in five settings of the church in those years.  The memories of people--good people in every place--dwell deep in my heart.  I remember with great gratitude how it felt to be a pastor and teacher and the many people, both inside and outside the church, who were my mentors and partners in ministry.

Now I am faced with the challenge of finding my way without a robe and stole, without a pulpit, without another Council or committee meeting.  Who will I become?  What will I do with this phase of my life?  It's far too soon to tell.  The anxiety to rush to secure myself in the "next thing" is a temptation to be avoided.  

In recent days, I've traveled to visit with friends and to rekindle relationships that were shelved because of the demands of ministry--many of which were self-imposed.  I am glad for time to reacquaint myself with these friends and connect with them anew.  I'm occasionally having coffee conversations with colleagues on Zoom.  I'm raking the leaves which descend at different times and are always blowing from neighbor to neighbor, an endless task.  I'm preparing for winter, a fallow season of discernment.  I'm sitting by the fire in the evenings with a good book and a glass of wine.

Now that I have the time, I will be active again in posting these reflections.  Thank you for reading and joining me on the journey.  May God bless you . . . and us all . . . as we find our way.

 

At the End of the Day:  A scene from my travels to Starkenburg, MO

As the Day Begins

I woke up this morning, with a biblical text moving through my mind.  That doesn’t always happen, so I paid extra attention as the new day was dawning.  And, this is that text:  “For I am not ashamed of the gospel; it is the power of God for salvation to everyone who has faith, to the Jew first and also to the Greek.”  This is Romans 1:16 from the New Revised Standard Version.  The good news is powerful.  Even in his death on the cross—especially his death on the cross—Jesus shows us the power of God to bring salvation, to change lives, to transform our troubles, and to reach across the terrible divides that separate and destroy relationships.

This morning, the words that sound the loudest are these, “and also.”  The gospel is expansive in its reach.  It is not just for the salvation of the Jews; rather, it is also for the Gentiles, for the non-Jews, for the nations of the world.  The author is Paul.  The apostle was proud of his heritage, and rightly so.  But, he came to see that everyone—all others all around the world were also included in the gospel’s powerful grasp.  God loves and accepts everybody.  The outstretched arms of our Savior embrace all with life not just when we die, but right now.

This gospel is so different from the divisive, hateful rhetoric we hear blasted at us from our politicians and pundits in these days.  When trouble comes, it is so easy to point at someone else and make them our scapegoat.  Perhaps it is human nature to separate ourselves from others and to focus on our differences rather than to see the other person as our kindred.  All share the love of God.  All share the life of Jesus Christ.  All share the power of the Holy Spirit.

Well, it’s morning.  It’s a new day in an old world.  I choose to dwell this day with a verse of scripture that inspires me.  I will look for every opportunity to live the power of the gospel in my relationships—especially in my encounters with those who seem so different and difficult, those scary ones.  I will listen to them.  I will imagine loving them as God loves them.  I will do what I can while I can to stand with those who are ostracized, vilified, criminalized, and left to fend for themselves.  The gospel is power to change minds and open hearts.  The gospel is the power of God to change the world.  And, in fact, it has already changed me again today.

Thank you, God!  Thank you!

No Place for Children

During the major protest event in Washington, D.C. last Saturday, a group of teenage boys from Covington Catholic High School in Park Hills, Kentucky found themselves at the center of confrontations between several groups, including Black Hebrew Israelites and Native Americans.   In watching the extensive social media footage of that difficult time, it is clear that this group of high school students did not provoke the trouble that they experienced.  What seems equally clear is that this group of young people were ill equipped to respond to the situations they faced at the Lincoln Memorial on Saturday.

One wonders about the wisdom of having high school youth traveling to Washington, D.C. on a weekend of multiple protests, including the one that brought them there to protest against the legality of abortion in the United States.  One wonders about the role of adults from Kentucky who accompanied these boys--their chaperones, parents, teachers, and administrators.  Where were they?  Why do so few of these adults appear to help diffuse the situation?

I also noted the red hats with that political logo of the Trump administration:  "Make America Great Again."  Is this the way we make America "Great?"  I wonder whether these students, many of whom are not yet old enough to vote, realize that they are being co-opted by being thrust into an adult world before they are really prepared to be there.

As I watched the footage of the various encounters in the video, I put myself there and wondered how I would have responded as a senior citizen, who has been a long-time disciple of Jesus.  I think that I would have been afraid.  I would have resisted by not engaging with those shouting their ideology at me.  I would have walked away, not giving their anger a place to take root in me.  All groups had a right to peacefully protest on Saturday.  They all had a right to be there, but wisdom is evident in knowing when to engage and when to walk away.  When there is no opportunity for meaningful dialogue and respect, it is time to walk away.

I applaud Elder Nathan Phillips for trying to diffuse the initial conflict, but I also believe that the group of boys did not have the maturity and background to appreciate what he was doing or sufficiently understand his heritage.  It created a scene that was disrespectful and inappropriate.  What are the lessons that adults must teach our children about cultural heritage and acceptance of other peoples?

And, in the end, I still believe that such protests are no place for our children to be thrust into a contentious, adult environment without preparation and adequate accompaniment by their elders.  Let us pray for our children.  May they be prepared well. 

Nostalgia

In 2011, as I traveled to India with a group of colleagues, I often found myself feeling homesick.  At times, I felt trapped.  The noise of the Indian culture was too much for me.  The press of people was a overwhelming.  Sometimes in the massive crowds, I feared becoming separated and lost from our group.  During the two weeks of traveling, I longed to be home again.

The word "nostalgia" comes from a Greek word that literally means to return home.  It is the word for exiles, for travelers, and for first-time church campers.  It is the word that would describe the feelings of patients in a hospital or residents in a nursing home.  The dictionary relates a two-fold meaning:  (1) the state of being homesick and (2) a wistful or excessively sentimental, sometimes abnormal yearning for a return to some past period or irrecoverable condition.  I know how it is to be homesick.  I know well how nostalgia feels.

Frederick Buechner wrote a book as he approach the eighth decade of his life entitled, The Longing for Home: Reflections at Midlife.  In the book he reminisces about the house of his childhood, his maternal grandparents' house, that became his home.  While now long gone, Buechner remembers it clearly.  That image of home continues to beckon to him--the home of his past.   But he also looks forward to another home, the home of which he dreams.  I like the book because it speaks to my soul--my sometimes homesick soul.  It is often easier for me to look back than it is to look forward.  Sometimes my memory is stronger and more vivid than my hope.  That is not necessarily good or helpful. 

While it is important to remember, it is even more important for people to hope.  Yes, our scripture sometimes speaks of a nostalgic longing.  Many of the exilic texts yearn for returning home again.  There is a persistent spiritual longing to be reunited with loved ones and the places that have been foundational in our lives--especially when we feel vulnerable and all alone.   There is a longing for a restoration of the broken places in our lives--for a return to wholeness, for salvation.  There is a longing for God to come home to be with us again.

When I hear the political slogan advanced by our nation's President, "Make America Great Again," the word "again" gets my attention.  It is a word that looks back to another time--sometime in our country's history.  It does not specify, however, when that time or period actually was.  Who was the President when America was great?  What were the social and cultural hallmarks of such greatness?  What was the economy like when we were great before?  Were we at war or living in peace?  Were our policies connecting us with others around the globe or driving us into a deep isolationism?  Did we value our unity or dwell on our differences?  Perhaps those who wear the red caps and attend the political pep rallies today are folks who feel like exiles, who experience a deep longing, who are trying to find some security and stability amid their nostalgia.  Perhaps they too are longing for home.

I also know that nostalgia can be, as the dictionary defines it, an "abnormal yearning" to return to some imagined time that cannot be recovered or may never have existed in the first place.  I am often reminded that the great times in my life and ministry may not have been as grand as I remember them now.  It is healthier to be oriented to the future than preoccupied with the past.  Hope is promised.  Resurrection is more than restoration; it is an invitation to experience God's new thing, God's new creation.  New life is promised.  The future is not to be feared because it is where God meets us in an even closer way than today.  The future holds our home.  It is where all will be revealed, where justice, peace, and love are eternally present.  This is home!  This is the home for which I yearn.  A good life is not only about history and heritage . . . it is always about hope.

Our God, our help in ages past, 

Our hope for years to come. 

 Be Thou our guard while troubles last, 

And our eternal home.  

Amen.

What Do You Want for Christmas?

So, what do you want for Christmas?  Perhaps that is a strange question to ask.  It is the question we ask our little ones as they sit on Santa’s knee.  It is the question for the children—for those who cannot earn their own way yet.  Even so, I think it is also a question that must be asked of every adult, of every person who already lives with great privilege and power, as well as great uncertainty and anxiety about the future.

When I was a little child, we looked forward to getting the Sears and Roebuck catalog and looking through its pages of colorful toys.  We made our lists, anticipating with delight the gifts that might be waiting for us under the Christmas tree.  The old catalog is gone, but there continues to be a daily stream of ads in our mailbox and our inbox—all beckoning for our attention and our money.  The gifts promise to make our lives easier, to make us look younger and better, to make us live longer.

Perhaps you have already done the shopping for others on your list.  So Christmas is a quid pro quo holiday.  We give a gift because we got a gift last year or we anticipate one this year.  Perhaps there is that gift pool at work, where you have drawn names to make sure everyone gives and receives a gift.  But, back to the focusing question:  What do you want this Christmas?  Are you in touch with your Christmas longing?  What will satisfy the hunger in your soul?  What will help you know that you are appreciated and loved?  What will bring you peace?

I invite you to make your list now—not for someone else—but just for you.   That’s not about being selfish, but about being human, a creature, and a child of God.   We all depend on gifts to be fully alive.  It’s not about what we can secure for ourselves.  We need gifts to be whole.  So, what is the gift that you need as Christmas comes?

That gift is likely found in some holy place, a sanctuary just down the street.  For me, it is in a manger, where an infant lies in swaddling clothes.  Christ is the gift, sought by shepherds and strangers from foreign lands.  Christ is the gift who reaches across the brokenness and the divisions between people and nations—across the stress in our souls.  Christ is the gift that brings forgiveness, pardon and peace, and life.  Among all the things that promise us a better life, this baby—Jesus—is the gift for a lifetime.  He is God’s gift for the world—God’s gift for you as Christmas comes anew.

So, what do you want for Christmas?  That gift is found in a holy place right in your own neighborhood.  Receive, cherish, and be changed by that gift!