Blessed Be the Tie that Binds

I live a tethered life. That’s become my working shorthand for the complex web of relationships that have created and connected me in this life. And those of you who know me know that when I commit to a relationship, professional or personal, I tend to go all in. There’s not any part of my heart that is left fenced off, with a “do not disturb” sign on the gate. I associate this “all in” willingness with not being a lukewarm Christian (as we read in Scripture, lukewarm persons of faith make Jesus want to throw up – “"I know your works; you are neither cold nor hot. I wish that you were either cold or hot. So, because you are lukewarm, and neither cold nor hot, I am about to spit you out of my mouth." (Revelation 3:15-16).

This past summer, I almost lost the feeling of all my tethers. I was like some ridiculous life-sized balloon, adrift in the atmosphere, until I felt the steady tug and tie of two bright stars, grounding my life and calling me home – the love of my son and husband. Of course there were other tethers still there, but in that bleak moment, I confess that I felt like I was coming undone, all the knots were slipping. It is often the relationships we knit together in our lives that can become the echoes of God’s love for us. And sometimes we need those echoes to be as loud as a freight train!

So now, I find myself in another time of transition. I have been appointed to serve as the senior pastor at Krum First United Methodist Church effective January 1. You can read more about this transition from the perspective of the Krum church’s current pastor, Christy Thomas, here. For my part, I am so humbled and honored by the opportunity. I am also simultaneously breathlessly excited, shaking in my boots, and snipping the beautiful tethers that have bound me in ministry at First UMC-Denton. It brings this hymn to mind:

          Blest be the tie that binds our hearts in Christian love;

          the fellowship of kindred minds is like to that above.
          Before our Father’s throne we pour our ardent prayers;
          our fears, our hopes, our aims are one, our comforts and our cares.
          We share each other’s woes, our mutual burdens bear;
          and often for each other flows the sympathizing tear.
          When we asunder part, it gives us inward pain;
          but we shall still be joined in heart, and hope to meet again.
                                                                      United Methodist Hymnal #557

I was looking over the order of worship planned for January 5 at the Krum church, so I could have an idea of what lies ahead. Tears pricked my eyes as I read the liturgy through which that body of faithful people will welcome me as their pastor – that I shall baptize new Christians, that I shall preside at the table to feed the family of faith, that I shall lead them in ministry to the community and to the world – these are all things I knew in my head, but I feel blessed beyond compare that they are receiving me for this ministry. I am tying all sorts of new tethers of relationship.

This is the church I chose, our United Methodist Church, and this is what I signed up to do. Our theology is sound and we are still called to spread Scriptural holiness over the land. Despite all the global church’s warts and failings, the movement of pastors, so that each one’s unique gifts and graces might continue to build up of churches (i.e. the people of God) can be an amazing, Spirit-filled thing. And I’m all in!

While I run this race...

“Who called you on the journey of ministry?” While it is obviously God who calls people, there are others who helped along the way - SynchBlog Day on 4/4 – Who Called You? #Explo13 #UMC

YES, while God does the calling, it is through the wise words, compassionate ears, and helping hands of living, breathing people that anyone gets where they’re going. And that includes in ordained ministry. I’m participating in a SynchBlog to get the word out about Exploration, an event for young adults age 18-26 to hear, discern, and respond to God’s call to ordained ministry in The United Methodist Church, and the question above is the prompt for today.

Recently, I wrote about what it felt like to be there, to have this sense of having arrived at my destination. I am an ordained elder in full connection in the North Texas Conference of The United Methodist Church. This was a goal it took eight years to attain. So, if you are considering this path, listen to the wise words of one of my former district superintendents: You can think about the things to do as hoops to jump through or doors to pass through. It’s all up to you. You choose your perspective and whether or not you value the journey as much as the destination.

With that in mind, I looted my ordination paperwork to help me answer today’s question:

God has called me throughout my life, but many times I couldn’t hear the call clearly because I couldn’t accept that I could be the person God was calling me to be. I grew up in an area in Arkansas where I never saw a clergywoman, so I never knew that was a possibility for me, although I used to joke with my friends that I would start my own church someday since I was usually disappointed or frustrated by my experiences in churches.

One day in the spring of 2003, I was reading a news story about our soldiers around the world. I remembered the many friends I had had in high school who had joined the reserves or the guard thinking only of earning some extra money for college, not that they would ever be putting their training to use. Suddenly it struck me what a hard life that could be, separated from your family and the familiar, doing things that are totally the opposite of who you really are. I thought how much they need a reminder of the presence of God with them, even in the midst of violent conflict and that perhaps I could be that reminder.

I immediately smothered that idea. I had never known any female pastors until I had begun working at First UMC - Denton in November 2002. I told myself I did not know enough about the Bible or church in general to be a chaplain. Certainly the need was there, but I was clearly not the right person for the task. But the idea would not go away. Maybe God was calling me, but I did not feel qualified.

I was inspired by the pastors at our church, especially Rev. Lisa Greenwood who was a wife, mother, and amazing associate pastor. In June 2003, she went on to be a senior pastor at another church and has continued to be a source of inspiration for me. In 2009, as I was preparing for commissioning, I asked for her to be my mentor in residency, to which she generously agreed. She has been a spiritual running partner on this ministry journey.

For months I struggled with this sense of call. I decided I needed to talk to someone about it, so I asked Rev. Andy Stoker, another one our associate pastors at that time, to meet with me. I was apprehensive about talking to anyone about this calling, since I knew it would change the relationships I had with others. But as soon as I spoke to Andy, a sense of relief came over me. As I continued to speak, I felt great excitement and joy. I felt I had discovered my God-given purpose in life. Andy became that first spiritual running partner, someone who knew the road and could help me run the race.

Despite the snags and snares I encountered in my candidacy process, including people in my own tradition who advise me to read the Bible to see what it says about women in ministry, implying that to be a dutiful wife I need to give up this aspiration and quietly stay at home, and people in other traditions who condemn me for seeking ordination at all, I continue to find strength and encouragement in God and in brothers and sisters around me.

I have realized that I may never be perfectly prepared, but I have reconciled myself to this since God never promises us an easy path, just to accompany us every step of the way. This is the good news for those who seek to be in leadership in the church. Every good that comes from our small effort is by the grace of God through Jesus Christ by the power of the Holy Spirit.

The other realization that I came to over the course of my candidacy, which included the chaplain candidate program with the Air Force, is that while my initial calling was through military chaplaincy, I never want to close myself to God’s call. I believe that at that time, I was receptive to God’s call to chaplaincy when I may not have even considered any other idea of ministry. I still don’t believe that I have God’s final word on my life. My calling may include other ministries someday. I want to stay open to the Spirit’s guidance.

When I was ordained, on June 6, 2011, it was Andy and Lisa who carefully placed the red stole around my shoulders. I was elated, honored, and humbled to be taking my place alongside them as colleagues, as co-workers for the sake of the Gospel. Now, recognizing them and so many others who have helped me along this way, I am intentional about offering a hand to those who are just starting out on the road. Because we all need a little flesh and blood embodiment of God while we run this race!

Oh, Lord hold my hand while I run this race. / Oh, Lord hold my hand while I run this race.
Oh, Lord hold my hand while I run this race, / I don't want to run this race in vain.

Oh, guide my feet while I run this race. / Oh, guide my feet while I run this race.
Oh, guide my feet while I run this race, / I don't want to run this race in vain.

Clergy are like a box of chocolates…

…you never know what you’re going to get. We were in worship planning today with the new senior pastor who will be coming to our church on July 1, and this is maybe the funniest thing I said. Forrest Gump was on TV the other night, but this comment came after our new SP said something about him being “plug and play.”

I’ve been keeping my head down when it comes to General Conference. It’s a paradox in my mind – there’s so much at stake / there’s so little at stake. How will things that change in that stratosphere of polity really affect the day to day life of ministry and mission that I know best? This is the first General Conference to occur since my ordination last summer, so I thought I would be more engaged, not less.

But in this information age, I feel myself glutted and gagged by the constant influx of information via Facebook, Twitter, and even the weekly United Methodist Reporter that lands in my physical inbox. It’s just so much to process, changing by the second, and all second-/third-/fourth-hand from folks who know more than I do. I feel paralyzed in the land of unknowing, fearful to put a toe in the riptide of legislation.

I broke this relative silence today when I saw a couple of Facebook friends (read: not real friends, not people I would call in the middle of the night with a problem, or even during the day for a ride to the airport – really colleagues, one of whom is being considered to be a bishop…) posting about the guaranteed appointment legislation. Apparently, the more acceptable way to talk about it is in regard to the security of appointment for elders. While this made good sense a few years ago, to keep bishops and cabinets from benching ordained women and persons of color, it is now keeping ineffective clergy shuffling around from church to church, leaving a trail of dysfunction behind them. Or so that seems to be the thought process to one who, admittedly, is not following the news closely.

This morning, legislation was passed that means that ordained elders, who have agreed to go where they are sent by the bishop of their conference (i.e. that they will itinerate), are no longer guaranteed an appointment. Of course, since we are Methodists and still fearful of the human element of divine discernment, there are a couple of checks to balance and affirm the process of putting an elder on transitional leave, approval by the Board of Ordained Minitsry and clergy session of the annual conference.

I don’t know how I feel about all of this. I still wonder how “effectiveness” is measured – “in daylights, in sunsets, in midnights, in cups of coffee, in inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife. In five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes, how do you measure a year in the life?” I wish it could be measured in love. During the last round of annual evaluations, I was teary-eyed as I told my SPRC chair that the best ministry I do is stuff that no one usually sees. And I’d love to tell a story here, but most of it is also held in holy confidence between the parties involved, me, and a loving God.

I guess the worry I have is that we, as clergy, at least as elders, are expected to be “plug and play.” While what we do is deeply relational ministry, at least if you’re doing it right in my mind, you’re supposed to be willing to be uprooted for the sake of the Gospel and bloom in unfamiliar, perhaps even hostile, soil. It’s scary. I’m watching as our current SP untangles his life from the life of our church. It’s not overt and it’s not wrong, but I can see the leaning away as conversations drift to the time in just a few weeks when he will not be playing a part in this family of faith.

A few weeks ago, we met with our new SP for the first time to begin planning worship for his first few Sundays with us. Afterwards, my clergy sisters and I were reflecting on the time together. They have seen senior pastors come and go before, at this church and others. This is new to me. I was baptized at a Wesley Foundation, but didn’t join a local church until 2003. My first appointment was set in 2009 at the church I currently serve. So maybe I was the one struggling to navigate the unfamiliar waters the most as I said it felt like trying to do marriage work when you’re on your first date. Here we were, trying to collaboratively and creatively plan worship that would glorify God even as I realize this relative stranger across the table doesn’t know anything about me. Not that it matters, I guess, but it feels weird all the same.

I was talking to a confirmand today, a 7^th grader who has completed 2 years of study and has come to the point to decide wheter or not she will join our church. We went over the renunciation of sin and confession of faith in the liturgy. I asked her what each section meant, as though she were explaining it to a 3^rd grader, which goes something like this: 1)  Don’t do bad things; 2) God gives us power to not do bad things; and 3) We believe in and follow Jesus, along with anyone else who wants to be a part of the church. We went over the 5 parts of the vows of membership – prayers, presence, gifts, service, and witness.

At the end of our time together, I asked her if she had any questions and she thought a long time before asking me when our current SP was leaving. I gave her the date of his last Sunday. She asked me if I knew who our new SP was. I told her his name, his current church, his wife’s name and profession, his kids’ names and the schools they attend. I stopped there, figuring that was probably more than she would remember and less than she wanted.

Then I told her the same story a very wise district superintendent, who is now a bishop, told me. This was the DS I met with the share my call to ministry. He told me that in some churches, the people center around the pastor, which usually doesn’t end well when that pastor is no longer there, for whatever reason. Our church, the United Methodist Church, is structured so that the people (hopefully!) center around God and the pastor circles the outside parameter, encouraging and redirecting.

All I can figure is that clergy exist in paradox. We engage in deeply relational ministry to build the trust necessary for growth in holiness. And yet we must be “plug and play” components, possessing the deep personal reserves to serve a variety of appointments with grace, spreading scriptural holiness across the land. Clergy are as clergy do. I pray we do well, no matter the under/over-lying structure.