A Church for Starving Artists

. . . and antibacterial soap (purchased before everybody hoarded it) and antiseptic wipes.  We were there for a family event (TBC got engaged!) and I’m happy to report that we don’t seem to have Covid 19.

We wiped down everything from the airplane tray tables to the hotel TV remote, We disinfected the seat belt buckles and the door knobs and the elevator buttons.  We were those people.

[Note: we did not need our surgical gloves, but if anyone had needed surgery, we were ready.]

During the time we were away, Seattle Presbytery in the Presbyterian Church USA asked each of their 45 congregations to cancel worship for the sake of protecting the gathering parishioners. And Christ Church in Georgetown, DC asked each of their 500+ members to quarantine themselves after their Rector was diagnosed with the virus.

I’m reminded of the four Episcopal nuns in Memphis who refused to leave the city during the Yellow Fever epidemic of 1878.  They stayed to care for the sick while most of the city left to avoid the illness.  And each of them died.

How do we remain faithful in times like this?

As a church leader myself, I suggest two things:

1. Love God with your mind as well as you heart, soul, and strength.  Really, Jesus gives us permission (and the commandment) to do this.  God invented both science and scientists and we are called to use the brains God gave us.
2. Tempting God is frowned upon according to that time Satan tried it.

The Twitterverse reminds us that #SoapIsAmazing and all it takes is regular washing with soap.  You can sing “Happy Birthday” or just count to 20 while washing up.

God blesses us with smart people who share what they know and – we hope – tell us what they do not yet know.  And we are called to use our God-given brains.  This is not a good time to introduce a Common Cup for communion.  This is not a good time to encourage The Kiss of Peace every Sunday morning.

This is a good time to be compassionate and to pray for the sick, the caregivers, and those poor people in cruise ships.

This is a good time to pray for the scientists.

This is a good time to be patient with our decision-makers.

It’s not the first time there has been a pandemic such as this and it won’t be the last.  But it’s another opportunity to show people what faithful living looks like.

Be safe out there.  Wash your hands.  You probably don’t need surgical gloves.  You definitely don’t need to hoard the Purell.

• Lords do it on the tenth day of Christmas.
• Lizards do it when things are chaotic.

Today – February 29, 2020 in the Gregorian calendar – marks the leap day of a leap year.  It’s fun to be born or get married (congratulations A&D) on Leap Day.

Leaping in general is fun.

This is my last post until I return on March 10. I’m taking time to learn some new things and then stopping from doing much of anything, although I hope to fit in a little leaping of my own.

See you March 10th.

Image of an ancient sculpture of a woman leaping over a bull found in Knossos, the largest Bronze Age archaeological site on Crete. (Circa 1600–1500 BCE)

She goes and she goes and she goes.  And then she stops.

I am blessed with two aunts over the age of 90 and a few more who are merely in their 70s/80s.  Actually, my Aunt Sarah turned 100 on Monday. Maybe I’ll be there one day and maybe I won’t.

At a family event in the past year, the daughter of one of these national treasures told me that she’s glad her mother could be there, but it will take her about three days to recover.  As we age, it takes longer to bounce back.

Lent is a good time to take time.  I find that I need it to recover from things that didn’t require recovery before:

• Weekend retreats.
• The death of loved ones’ loved ones.
• The news.

It used to be true that I only needed to recover from traumatic things closer to home.

Recovery language is used for everything from physical illness (including addictions) to trauma to ordinary grief – if there is such a thing as ordinary grief.  I tend to recover by stopping.  I just stop.

When was the last time you simply stopped?  It’s really hard to do if you are a Type A person who judges herself by how much she gets done out there.  I watch Randall on This is Us and want to yell “Go take a nap.  You are worth having around even if you stop working/worrying/providing.”  And there are those who will only stop when they get sick.  And then there are those who don’t stop when they get sick.

We might need to stop today.  Stop spinning.  Stop running.  Stop bouncing.  Yes, taking Sabbath is one of the big ten, but stopping is beyond Sabbath.  Stopping is stopping.  No phones.  No social media.  No cleaning up. No appointments.

It’s the second day of Lent.  We don’t think we can afford to stop, but we can – if only for a little chunk of time today.

Image of a piece of whirling silica which apparently can spin faster than anything else on earth but I don’t really understand the science.  Top quote is from my father about his FBC.

Maybe you’ve decided to give up sugar or meat or chocolate for Lent.  Whatever.

I wonder if we would be willing to give up something for someone else for Lent.  Almost every day of my life, I’m in conversations with Good Church People about their anxieties regarding their congregations.

You know these anxieties.  They have to do with survival.  They are worried about “the young people” or the cash flow.  But there is a reliable cure for this.

If we are willing to give up at least some of the things we love about our church for the sake of those who are not yet with us, we will thrive as a congregation.  For example:

• Would we be willing to give up some of the back pews in the sanctuary if it meant that young parents could rock their babies or play quietly with older children in the newly freed-up space?
• Would we be willing to give up the dress code if it meant that people without clean clothes would feel welcomed?
• Would we be willing to change the music for people who experience God’s love with different instruments?
• Would we be willing to offer some educational offerings off church grounds if it meant that people would feel safer?

What would you be willing to give up for your neighbors to join you in spiritual community? It’s a real question for those of us who want our congregations to grow.

Something to ponder on this Ash Wednesday – the first day of Lent.

Image of removing church pews from a church sanctuary.

If you’ve ever had Chocolate Chip Pecan pancakes from Zada Jane’s in Charlotte or the Pumpkin Pecan pancakes at Blueberry Hill in the southern Chicago suburbs or the Potato Pancakes at Walker Brothers in the northern Chicago suburbs, you know that eating pancakes can be a religious experience.

Pancakes are forbidden for most Whole 30, Keto, or gluten-free eaters.  The historical reason why Christians eat pancakes on the day before Ash Wednesday is to get all the sugar and butter out of the house before swearing them off for Lent.

Pancakes are a treat.  Good pancakes are heavenly.  Pancakes that appear to show the images of Jesus and Mary are . . .  interesting, mostly for what it means to see Jesus and his mother at breakfast.

We who long for deep meaning and purpose seek signs.  A burning bush would actually be terrifying and who would believe us?  A blinding light knocking us off our horse on the road to Damascus seems a little over the top.  But gentle signs – we prefer those: like that still small voice (which is also translated as “sheer silence.”)

Or we try really hard to find signs where there are no signs.  Is the fact that I didn’t get that job a sign that God has better things for me?  Or is it a sign of misogyny?  Is the fact that the Person-Of-My-Dreams is alternately abusive and sweet a sign that I’m called to be with this person to save them?  Or is it a sign that I need to get out fast?

We look for what we want to see and this is one reason we need a community.  We need people who will tell us the truth we don’t want to hear.  We need people to pick up our pieces after we’ve been shattered. We need someone to take us out for pancakes when it’s been a rough week.

I call this community Church.  At its best Church lavishes truth, healing, and comfort on all who gather and we do this because we have seen the power of truth, healing, and comfort that God offers.

Take someone out for pancakes today or take yourself out for pancakes.  And look for signs from God about what we are supposed to do and be today.  Chances are, today will have to do with telling someone the truth, healing a broken spirit, or comforting the grief-stricken in the name of the One who created us to be holy.  The signs are all around us that this is what the world deeply needs.

Image of a pancake sold on eBay in 2007 for $338 because of its likeness of Jesus and Mary (or Moses and Elijah)

Somewhere along the way The Church evolved from a “hospital for sinners”* to a club for people who’ve got it together. At least this is true in the White Church.

Sure, we know we are not perfect.  But we like to give the impression that we are perfect-ish.  Or at least we minimize what others might consider imperfect.

What would people think of me if they knew that:

• My child attempted suicide?
• My spouse lost his job?
• My morning routine includes taking two anti-depressants?
• My marriage is a sham?
• My father’s in prison?
• My daughter wants to marry a woman?
• My dog has fleas, my son has head lice, and my furniture has bed bugs?

Some of us say that we don’t care what people think, or we don’t care what they think anymore (because we’re older now.) But even the most confident among us has a touch of fear that people will learn that things are not perfect over at our place and they will judge us and maybe even reject us for it.

Repeat after me:  I am a Hot Mess and it’s okay.

We are not what people think of us.  But sometimes it feels that way.

What if people think I’m a loser and they’re right?  What if people think I’m ugly and they’re right?  What if people think I’m stupid and they’re right?  What if people think I’m a bad parent and they’re right?

First, put on some Lizzo and let it fill the air.  Secondly, remember that God made you and you are the unique and beautiful agglomeration of DNA and experiences that deserves love and respect.  It’s okay if people judge us as long as we know – to our bones – that we are created in the image of God.  And frankly, we always need some of God’s people around to remind us that we deserve to be treasured.

We are not what people think of us.  We are what God thinks of us – and yes, we have fallen short of perfect big time.  But nobody needs a Savior if things are perfect.  Have a good Monday.

Image from the movie After Lucia (2012) and thank you SPC.

*Augustine of Hippo (354-430 CE) supposedly said that the Church is a hospital for sinners not a museum for saints.

When you picture a church building, what does it look like? A traditional brick structure or a white clapboard edifice?  A glassy modern building or a school gym?  An auditorium or a theatre?  Stained glass or clear glass or no windows at all?  A central pulpit or an elevated pulpit off to the side or no pulpit?  A chancel or a stage?  A narthex or a welcome center?  Pews or movable chairs?

Newer congregations (those established sometime in the past 50 years) seem not to be as attached to their buildings as congregations in older churches.  Believe me, if you worship in a church sanctuary that dates back to the 18th or 19th or even the early 20th Century, people are attached to that building.

New church buildings – if new church plants meet in a church building at all – don’t have Tiffany windows and hand carved pews.  It’s easier not to become attached to the building when it doesn’t feature soaring arches and cozy cushioned pews.

But longtime church people are very attached to their church buildings. Very. Attached.

In a changing world, the church building becomes The Constant for many.  And today, more and more churches are closing after a slow death.  Some are being sold to other congregations. Some are being sold to developers.  And the pain must be excruciating for those who have loved both those buildings and the people who once prayed there.

So yesterday, I was meeting with leaders from the 1001 New Worshiping Communities in our denomination and was told a cool thing:  sometimes when churches decide they don’t have the capacity to continue, they give their buildings to new congregations just getting started.  S. was telling us that sometimes the older members of the former church come back to worship with the new congregation in the old church building.

The people are different.  The music is different.  Maybe even the language is different.

But the older members sometimes come back.  It’s the place where they got to know God.  No matter who’s there, God is also there.  It’s their church home.

Image of one of the prettiest little sanctuaries in the United States: Union Church of Pocantico Hills, NY.

Eboo Patel always inspires me and makes me want to be a better Christian. When he spoke Tuesday night at Queens University in Charlotte, he told a story about Martin Luther King, Jr that I’ve been trying to find with no luck, so I’ll share the gist of it here.

It was the late 1950s/early 1960s and Dr. King was living in a violent and dangerous United States. His home had been bombed.  I’ll type that again:  His. Home. Had. Been. Bombed.

Crosses were burning and Jim Crow was alive and well.  In 1963 a Birmingham church was bombed killing four young black girls.  Our nation was on fire.

Dr. King was asked, “If you could live in any time in history, when would you live?”  He pondered the thought of living in the time of Socrates or Plato imagining the amazing conversations he could have.  He imagined being with the first followers of Jesus and what he could learn from them.  He considered all the monumental times in history and what it would be like to be at the signing of the Declaration of Independence or at the signing of the Emancipation Proclamation.

But as tempting as those extraordinary periods of history would be, Dr. King said that he would most like to live in the time he was actually living.  Even with the racial injustice, random cruelties, and national divisions he understood the particular time in which he lived to be the perfect opportunity to do good work.

As I write this, political divisions seem insurmountable and Twitter is not helping.  The coronavirus is spreading.  Among the opinion pieces in recent newspapers include:

• The Audacity of Hate by Thomas B. Edsall (NY Times)
• Virginia’s Gun-Control Defeat by The Editorial Board  (WSJ)
• Congrats! You Dump 100 Plastic Bottles in Nature Each Year By Sergio Pecanha (Washington Post)
• Critics Warn School Shooter Drills May Be Doing More Harm Than Good: ‘They’re Becoming More Perverse and Obscene” By Peter Nickeas and Elyssa Cherney (Chicago Tribune)

Lord have mercy.  Christ have mercy. Lord have mercy.

Nevertheless . . .  it’s a great time to be an American Christian.  God has blessed us with plenty of work to do for good.  We have be handed a full platter of opportunities to fight hate with love and to fight gun violence with peace.  We have countless opportunities to clean up the environment.  We have countless opportunities to offer loving security to our children.

Yes, it will wear us out.  Dr. King often looked tired, but he was never hopeless.  I believe that God is calling each city and town to create an environment in which everyone created in God’s image can thrive. (People created in the image of God = all people.)

The world doesn’t have to be so ugly and broken.  We can be the people who refuse to use social media to spew hate.  We can be the people who see everyone – including our enemies – through the eyes of Christ.  We can be the people who say no to everyday cruelties.

We have so many opportunities to love instead of hate today. Let’s make it today’s challenge: Love someone who makes you crazy.  Love someone whose political views are the opposite of yours.  Love someone you don’t understand.  Or just try really hard not to hate them.

Images like the ones shown above are everywhere.  It doesn’t have to be like this.

Here’s an interesting article by Austan Goolsby about What’s Killing Shopping Malls (it’s more than Amazon) but I’m struck by this particular thing:

“With every passing decade, Americans have spent proportionately less of income on things and more on services.”

Today we spend more on travel, movies, eating out, childcare, education, and business services than we spend on products sold at the mall  – or any retail store.  So interesting.  Buying habits have evolved through the decades:

• In 1920, Americans spent more than half their income on food and clothing purchased in traditional stores.
• Today we spend only 12.2% of our income on food and clothing.

So, here’s what I wonder regarding “worship services.”  Many Church People refer to what happens Sunday morning (or whenever) as The Worship Service.  It’s a different kind of “service” from services like babysitting or lawn mowing or housecleaning.

The “service” that happens in a church context usually involves a time of praise, confession, proclamation of the Gospel, and thanksgiving. And – maybe I’m wrong but – most people do not consider the financial offerings they give to the Church to be about “paying for services.”

Many pastors provide “services” like officiating at weddings and funerals.  Some of us are paid something additional for these events and some of us are not.  (That’s for a different post.)

And if we really think about it, the services a particular church provides are so much more than what happens for an hour every week: food pantries, counseling, education, space for 12-Step Groups and other non-profits, clothing closets, prayer spaces, childcare, coffee, companionship, community dinners, rides to the polls, and beyond.

A bride once referred to me (her pastor and the officiant at her wedding) as “a vendor.”  Ouch.  I was hoping that our connection was more about our relationship with each other and God than a business proposition.

This is a huge culture shift – the notion of spending more of our money on services than things, and frankly I wonder if Dr. Goolsby factored in personal economics.  If I’m a poor woman living on minimum wage, I’m probably spending most of my money on food and rent rather than “things.”  I’m not buying things because I don’t have the money to buy the latest Ninja food processors or Air Jordans.

A Vitamix seems awesome but I’d rather have a therapist and a pedicurist.

Doing seems better for the soul than having.  Being seems more fulfilling than doing.  And being (a follower of Jesus, a believer, a faithful Jew, a practicing Muslim, etc.) seems to be about service – but we are the ones doing the serving.  This – and not owning stuff – seems to be the meaning of life.

Image of the Bluth’s Frozen Banana booth from Arrested Development.

It was about this time in 2011 when everybody in our little family – except for HH – was individually planning to move in the next six months.  I would be leaving Our Nation’s Capital to join HH in Chicagoland.  FBC would be graduating from college to return to Our Nation’s Capital.  SBC would be moving from one dorm to another (but didn’t know where) and TBC would be moving from a dorm to an apartment (but didn’t know where.)

And now, nine years later we continue to move: SBC to a new apartment last month, TS (who is now part of our family) from SC to VA by way of CT, and me from one apartment to another TODAY.  I’m preparing a place for me and HH to live in Charlotte when he arrives in a few months. (We’ll have a guest room!)

I loved living in one town for the first 23 years of my life.  It brought stability and comfort and I remember – even as a young child – being grateful that my family stayed in Chapel Hill while so many of my friends moved in and out.  Our children appreciated growing up in Our Nation’s Capital while – again – so many of their friends moved in and out.

Some of us move from one home to another and some of us don’t.  I have family members who’ve lived in the same home for over sixty years.  I have clergy colleagues who’ve followed God’s call to multiple states through their professional ministry and I have other clergy colleagues who have stayed within a specific geographic area to serve multiple calls in the same general vicinity.

It’s easier to Kondo your closets when you move every few years.  It’s also easier to let go of things and travel more lightly.  Every move is bittersweet in that we are losing something and gaining something with every new address.

Whether we stay in the same house where we were born or move every year (hello military families) the truth is that every single one of us is called to move in some way:

• To move in terms of the way we see the world.
• To move in terms of our spiritual maturity.
• To move in terms of becoming more and more like the people we were created to be.

If you happen to be part of a Judeo-Christian faith tradition, moving is our thing:

A wandering Aramean was my ancestor . . .

I am about to do a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert.

Very truly, I tell you, when you were younger, you used to fasten your own belt and to go wherever you wished. But when you grow old, you will stretch out your hands, and someone else will fasten a belt around you and take you where you do not wish to go.’ (He said this to indicate the kind of death by which he would glorify God.) After this he said to him, ‘Follow me.’

Following the God who made us is not for the fainthearted.  God will take us where we didn’t think we’d ever go – and I’m not just talking about geographic locations.

Today I’m moving from one apartment to another in the same building.  Easy, right?  Yes, it will be.  It’s an easy move because God knows that my capacity to move spiritually and relationally and professionally can be exhausting.  I’m grateful for a God who knows me well enough to help me discern that moving from the 5th floor to the 4th floor is about all I can handle right now.

Presidents move too (both geographically and in their capacity to be noble servants, God-willing) and President’s Day is an excellent day to start afresh in a new place.

May you find yourself starting afresh as the days get longer.

Image from Two Men and a Truck in St. Louis where I’ve never lived.