It All Started with a Few Drops of Water

I’ve always aspired to journal as part of my spiritual disciplines.  I like to write, but no matter what I’ve done, there has been no discipline in my journaling.  Over the years, I’ve bought and been given the most beautiful journals…and the plainest.  I’ve bought wide-lined ones and some with blank pages, but the everyday practice of using them just eludes me.  With the same good intentions, I started a blog right after Annual Conference in 2013 – a digital journal.  My intention was to share my experiences as a way of opening up dialogue about lay leadership in the church. For those of you who have been kind enough to read an entry, thank you for putting up with my stories.  Since Google can tell me everything about myself…I know that the highest number of people read my blog post back in the middle of July last year when I talked about leaving the Connectional Ministries staff. I’m still trying to figure out what that tells me!

 

I often use that digital journal when I am find myself reflecting on happenings of a particular day or as I process experiences that have touched my soul.  That question weighed heavily on my mind as I returned to Richmond after the last board meeting for Discipleship Ministries.  The gate at the airport in Nashville was filled with college students headed out for spring break. I curiously watched a young man work the crowd of other students at the gate with the greatest of skill and ease.  He not only stood out because of his extroverted questioning of the others’ plans for their breaks but because his hair was bright pink. I told myself that whomever he sat next to was going to have an interesting flight….Guess who that ended up being.

 

The window seat was taken by an anxious-looking young woman.  Norman, my new young friend, was seated in the middle and started the conversation with her.  She was a freshman planning to become a teacher for students who are deaf. They chatted about their colleges and campus life.  Norman told us he was a sixth year senior – who was still not going to graduate this year - because he had changed majors so many times.  Philosophy was his final chosen area of study. His plan was to go to seminary, but to teach, not preach, and to be able to debate religion with his mother - who by the way did not know his hair was pink. Norman then turned his attention to me. I silenced him for a moment when upon his asking where I worked, I described my role with Virginia United Methodist Homes.  When he spoke again his question was "Did you always want to grow up to work with old people?" He laughed when I responded with "No, but I always wanted to grow up to be one!"  

 

So, there on the plane, the question came again.  How did I get to this place in my journey of faith?  The answer is in a few drops of water...

 

I’ve lived in Richmond over 30 years now, but people still often ask me where I’m from.  I think it has something to do with the way I talk. If you were to take I-581/Route 220 South out of Roanoke and drive for about 45 miles, you’d end up almost in the backyard of our family home in Henry County.  Go about 15 more miles and you’ll be across the state line in North Carolina.  I call Fieldale a village.  The Federal government calls it a census-designated place which I think translates to a community with its own post office. For some reason, Fieldale with its vast population of around 800 people has three exits off the 220 By-Pass around Martinsville.  Think of this in comparison to the City of Fredericksburg for those of you who travel Interstate 95.  Technically, there is 1 exit with signage just for Fredericksburg on a highway that ranks 16^th in a list of most traveled interstates in the United States.   My hometown has three exits. Take the third exit for State Route 609, drive past my old house, wind around the curves, and you’ll come to the Smith River.

 

I went down to the river on Thursday and scooped up a jar of water.  These drops of water started as headwaters somewhere in the Blue Ridge Mountains.  As they trickled down from mountain springs to the creeks that feed the Smith River, I’m sure they picked up an accent that would sound like mine if they could talk.  The drops of water flow on into the Dan River near Eden, NC, then into the Roanoke River, join into the Albemarle Sound, and finally grace the waves of the Atlantic Ocean.  All along that journey, these tiny drops gain power and strength as they merge with other waters, supplying energy to villages and cities, sustaining the lives of those who live nearby, shifting the river banks and coastline.  Transformation – that started with only a few drops of water.

 

It was water from this river that was scooped up and placed on my head at the baptismal font of Fieldale Methodist Church 54 years ago.  The people of the congregation who took vows along with my parents that day to teach me how to grow as a disciple of Jesus Christ came from the mountains further to the west and from the big cities of the north and east. Over the years, what they modeled and taught me grew stronger and became more deeply ingrained.  All along my journey, those tiny drops of water have:

·       reminded me of the power and amazing possibilities that come with being a part of the Body of Christ in this United Methodist Church,

·       have given me strength to make it through challenging times,

·       sustained me when my faith turned to doubt, and

·       have guided the shifting of my understandings of who Jesus is and who he calls me to be.

Transformation – that started with only a few drops of water.

Each of us is called through our baptism to be a disciple in all areas of our lives and a living example of Christ’s love to the world – to bring the Gospel to life in our communities. To do that, we have to be willing to share our faith, our story, our call.

We need to reclaim our identity as people of God, all created and gifted by God for unique life in the body of Christ and in the world. To do this, our attitudes and expectations about church have to change. We have to move from the comfortable place of being recipients of services - asking what the church is doing to meet our needs - to a much more dynamic partnership of sharing in the gifts of the community, moving from consumers with a membership mindset to truly shared ministry.  This moves us to ministry where all Christians are the signs and bearers of God’s love, where we – no matter what our titles, status, ability, or politics – show that we are Christ-centered people working for a needy world – bringing about transformation.

Transformation – that starts with only a few drops of water.

The ways we each respond to God's call upon our lives are unique and varied, yet one thing is absolutely clear.  We are all as the “laos” - the whole people of God - called by our baptisms to be ministers. The structure of the church sets some apart for specific work, but we are all called to offer our gifts and talents to the mission of making disciples of Jesus Christ for the transformation of the world.

And I continue to be amazed at how God works in my life - this humble child of God baptized by little drops of water from the Smith River.

·       God still calls me as a disciple of Jesus Christ to say “yes” even when I don’t think I have all the talents and graces for the task ahead.

·       I’m called beyond the limits of my knowledge and experience in some way almost every day to step out in faith.  

·       I’m called to never stop learning or exploring my faith or questioning my beliefs. You never stop growing as a disciple.

·       God gives me the strength and the words, even when my knees shake and the sweat begins to roll as those scary words of “testimony” and “witness” become a sharing of my story of faith with you at this Laity Luncheon or on the street with a stranger.  

·       And just like so many others that we know from Bible stories who were just minding their own business when God recognized their gifts and potential, I am called – and you are called - over and over to a life of servanthood as the hands and feet of Jesus in the world today.  

I think I just defined what it means to be a disciple…and it started with a few drops of water.

 

A Way Too Long Reflection on Conferences Past

This will be my first Annual Conference in 15 years without having to “work” every minute. As I packed my car today, I was remembering some of the interesting, unexpected things that happened behind the scenes, things that most people never knew anything about, or had any idea went into Annual Conference planning and execution.

• The first year (2001) having my hotel assignment change about every 30 minutes on the way to Virginia Beach and as I unpacked the car.  Had no idea where I’d be staying until almost 9 PM that first night.
• Annual Conference 2002 in Roanoke when the construction workers' conversations came across the hearing assistance devices and the Civic Center staff shared that their system sometimes picked up the orders from McDonald’s across the street.
• Being the only one brave enough to take the forgotten trash can up to the stage to place under the Bishop’s table when it was not there at the opening.  A clergy friend made me special business cards after that experience, listing my title as “Trash Can Bearer for the Bishop.”
• The year in Roanoke when I stayed in the dark, empty heart of the Civic Center with Carol Vaughan until about 2 AM after finding out that the sound in the Power Point presentation for the Council on Ministries report to be offered the next morning didn’t transfer to the computer being used.
• The seats that broke, the wires that tripped people, the stairs too steep to maneuver safely in all the various venues, the cars that got hit in the parking lots…and many a late night parking lot conversation.
• Getting the worst looking basketball out of our attic, asking an intern to paint it bright green and white, just so the Bishop had a ball to fake a shot with in 2007 after the “Nothing But Nets” video – only to have it raise $150,000 in one of the most memorable hours of recent Annual Conference history.
• The people (not to be named here in order to protect their identities…) that got stuck in elevators, on lifts, and in bathrooms. Those who experienced respiratory distress in meeting and hotel rooms due to environmental concerns. The ASL interpreter's husband who was approached by a "lady of the night" at the pretty seedy motel where we had them staying. Very interesting conversations with facility staff over accessibility and general human need issues, including really bad food options in concession areas and the coldest…or saltiest…or poorly served banquet meals.
• More doughnuts than I can count to keep sound guys, staff members, and interns happy.  Package after package of Jolly Rancher hard candy and Hersey Kisses to keep volunteer fingers typing.  Pencil sharpener after pencil sharpener to make sure #2 pencils could fill in scan sheets.

The list could go on and on, but I’ll stop there. Oh, the things you end up doing for Annual Conference when you’re on the staff.

This year, I get to take care of a display and greet people.  And, instead of making sure the money is collected for tickets like at the past 14 Annual Conferences, I am honored to speak at the Laity Luncheon.

Yet one thing hasn’t changed – in this year of electing delegates to General and Jurisdictional Conference – our lack of unity around what Jesus Christ tried to teach us seems to be more evident than ever.  As email requests have come asking for a statement of where I stand on wording in The Book of Discipline of The UMC and clergy roles and responsibilities, I’ve debated whether to share my stances openly here in this blog.  I don’t need to do that…mainly because this picture from the 2012 General Conference was broadcast all around the United Methodist Connection.

 

But I think it is important to share a portion of my response to one of the requests for clarification as to my support or non-support for a petition before us in the Virginia Conference this week....

Early in the 2012 General Conference during debate over adding a phrase to the introduction of our Social Principles, it was clearly evident that our U.S. conservative and liberal biases were driving our deliberations.  My heart cried when our vote was divided 56% to 44% to make our statement read:  “We stand united in declaring our faith that God's grace is available to all, that nothing can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus.”  My heart broke even further when one of our Virginia Conference delegates passed another during a Love Feast a few days later, stating that the bread could not shared because of their different stances on a difficult topic. 

At those times, I had to feed my soul and the only way I knew to do that was to feast at Christ’s table.  I spent lunch joining with others in services of Holy Communion by the water’s edge.  Through our tears, we remembered whose we are and why we were present:  to share the message of the Gospel with a hurting world.  When the protest followed the vote on the wording of our Social Principle regarding human sexuality, I feasted with others at Christ’s table.  I received the bread and juice from one of the young clergy with whom I shared leadership in the legislative committee.  As he turned away and moved to the next person, another person came toward me with bread and cup in hand.  I looked at him and said I had just received, but would do so again, and I did it again, and again.  In teaching about spiritual disciplines, John Wesley instructed that we should partake of Holy Communion as often as possible and that’s what I did. It’s what I needed to do…to be reminded that God’s grace carries me, and in return I am called to love unconditionally.

The morning after the General Conference ended I sat by the water and read Three Simple Questions: Knowing the God of Love, Hope, and Purpose by Bishop Rueben Job.  The words were what I needed that morning to make some sense of what I had just experienced.  Here are the words that touched me most:

“We know we cannot do everything to change the world, but we can, by God’s grace, each do our part.  We can, each one of us, live what we are – a creature of the God who is Creator of all that is, a beloved child of God, a responsible member of God’s global family, and a follower of Jesus Christ as a part of God’s faithful family.  Every day that we live as Jesus lived, we change the world.”

That is why my name is in the pool again this year – one last time – because to be a responsible part of this global United Methodist Church, I am called to embody that last sentence: “Every day we live as Jesus lived, we change the world.