What the Church Is Good For

This past week, we lost a church member. Martha Johnson's husband Paul died a week ago yesterday. Paul was not active, directly. He liked to say he was getting in heaven on Martha's coat tails. As many of our members know, Martha is our food pantry manager. She's got some great coat tails. You see, Martha makes possible the incredible management of resources to feed thousands of hungry people each year. While Martha was doing that kind of servant work, Paul was doing stuff like going to Kroger for her, and buying tasty treats for those volunteers who eat lunch on pantry days. In other words, we had Communion before and during pantry hours!

We had a great Memorial service for Paul last Friday. That means we didn't do dirge songs, or paint Paul as some kind of saint or sinner. We simply celebrated his life in song, in pictures, in personal stories, and shared how much his family loved him, how much his friends thought of him, how unique he was, and how much God loves him. Along with the service, so many of our folks reached out to Martha and the family. Since then, she has told me several times how uplifting the service was and how she felt cared for. We have both wondered at what people do who do not have a church home during such times of loss and grief.

While I was at Subiaco a few weeks ago, I read a book titled, "Blue Like Jazz" by Donald Miller, a thirty-something guy who doesn't always like the church, but who loves Jesus. In his book, subtitled, "Non-Religious Thoughts on Christian Spirituality," Miller helped me see how it is that so many people can't stand the church. They think all Christians are judgmental. They think Christians don't care about the environment or the poor or social justice. They think most Christians are more interested in converting them than conversing with them. They think Christians are only aligned with one political party. They think Christians are not interested in science. They think Christians are not interested in thinking. They think Christians are only interested in erecting big buildings and serving themselves.

I can understand why those Miller writes about are sick of Christians, but I also know there are other options out there. Our church is one of those options, and some people drive a long way to participate in a church passionate about community activism and outreach, inclusiveness, intellectual curiosity, and love of neighbor, especially the least. These are people who don't necessarily like the church, but they do like Jesus because they have come to understand he cares about the poor, the environment, justice, compassion and the least.

We also comfort those who mourn. Jesus had close friends who experienced death, and since Jesus is in the life business, he continues to offer hope and new life. A lot of times that care still comes through the church, as it did last week when we mourned Paul, and yet gave him back to God. And as we did, we held Martha's hand, and we will continue to do so.

Even though we all have friends out there who don't much like "The Church" and can't blame them, the reality is that Jesus' Spirit works through this imperfect Body, if we let him. Think about the friends or relatives or acquaintances in your life who need love, hope, and to serve something greater than themselves. If they aren't in a church, invite them to ours. Please introduce them to our Jesus--the one we know and love. It's probably the one they haven't heard about yet. The one Donald Miller writes about. (For more about Miller's unconventional, growing church, go to imagodeicommunity.com.) Tell me what you think we need to do at QQUMC to make it more welcoming for those who don't like "The Church," but would really like Jesus.

Peace,

Rev. Betsy

A Word from Subiaco

What's a United Methodist pastor who is also a Mom doing on a retreat at a Benedictine monastery?   

Besides listening to the cows "moo" in the pasture below, I'm thinking, planning, and talking to other clergy about the future of the Big Church, and the future of our local church.   These are the kinds of conversations I relished in seminary, discussions with professors and colleagues about the most important elements of faith, but I don't always have that luxury anymore.

Nowadays, I find that I spend quite a bit of time reading Thomas the Train books to my son. Written by an Anglican priest in the previous century, the Thomas stories are about "Really Useful" engines that work on the Island of Sodhor, a little spot of land with plenty of green pastures, farms, hilltops, and a bit of fog from the sea.  My son and I are not the only ones who've been indoctrinated with Thomas.  The other day, my husband said, "I can quit singing that song:  'There's two, there's four, there's six; there's eight, Shunting cars and hauling freight....'"  We've also become quite religious about the morality of the stories, which coincides nicely with our Methodist commitment to being "Really Useful" Christians.  In other words, when our son gets unruly or flat-out defiant, we can gently remind him he is not being a "Really Useful" engine.  This is a child who kisses his Thomas book goodnight, so he understands what it means to be "Really Useful."  He's devoted.

As I got closer to Subiaco and further from home, I felt like I was entering Sodhor.  The cows dotting the landscape.  The fog settling around the hills.  There were beautiful trees beginning to leaf.  There were bodies of water to cross.  I began to feel as if I might be "Really Useful" and actually accomplish something quite luxurious and extravagant:  a time apart from my personal and professional responsibilities in order to reflect creatively about my life, my ministry, and God's church.

And that's what happened today.  I got to listen to a wonderful mind talk about evangelism.  We got to think about how the Church will proclaim and equip disciples in a pluralistic, hostile 21st century world, no easy task.  This work is absolutely crucial because, as a mom, I want my son to know Jesus.  As a pastor, I want the next generation to become faithful believers.  But it's up to us.

And Thomas, good as he is, cannot do it.  Thomas cannot teach our children to be Christians. Nor can Barney, or Bob the Builder, or Spongebob, or Elmo.   So, tell me, Friends, how are we to make disciples?  How are we to teach the young?  How are we to pass on the faith in a hostile world where soccer or baseball practice is more important than Sunday school or worship?   How are we to teach that Jesus is King and Lord, instead of pop stars and million-dollar athletes?   

I'm thinking about it.  I'm praying about it.  And I hope you'll join me.  What do you think our church can do to make bold, passionate Christians?