Author Archives: hummingbird

Elizabeth Glass Turner ~ The Promise of Righteousness

Then justice will dwell in the wilderness,
    and righteousness abide in the fruitful field.
The effect of righteousness will be peace,
    and the result of righteousness, quietness and trust forever. – Isaiah 32:16-17

The word righteousness isn’t one you see popping up on your Facebook and Twitter feed much these days.

Most people in North America would hear “righteous” and immediately translate it to “self-righteous.” And if there’s any taboo practice in an emerging or present post-Christendom culture, it’s self-righteousness: the inherent judgmental stance against others, in favor of yourself, based on supposed superiority of morality. Perhaps because of it’s very appearance and sound, there’s a halt, a slamming of the brakes. “Righteousness” begins visually and aurally, in English, with “right.” To say definitively that you’re immediately “right” in a pluralistic culture is a non-starter.

Of course “righteousness” doesn’t mean, “I’m right and therefore you’re wrong.” We speak here only of the instinctual response of the casual hearer who didn’t grow up hearing Psalms read from a teacher at the beginning of the public school day. “Righteousness” isn’t in our public vocabulary anymore.

To suggest a neutral or positive understanding of “righteousness” is challenge number one, and immediately we face challenge number two: the assertion that righteousness is the path to peace, that righteousness bears the promise of unsullied community. And yet this is what we read from Isaiah. While Sandra Richter’s powerful new study on Isaiah or John Oswalt’s classic commentary can give deeper insight to this passage, the 21st century reader still can’t escape this basic assertion: “The effect of righteousness will be peace, and the result of righteousness, quietness and trust forever.”

If there is a season in which Americans might be open to reconsidering the promise of righteousness, it might be now: now, when peace, quietness and trust seem long ago and far-off. We hunger for peace, quietness, and trust. A truck plows through families celebrating in France, presidential campaigns are marred by inquiries, lawsuits, violence, and murky business dealings, a man following a law enforcement officer’s instructions is shot and killed in front of a four-year-old child, police officers are targeted and assassinated, a suicide bomber brings death and grief in Syria, and Baghdad, and Kabul, heroin scourges middle America, a teenager shoots up a church Bible study, a hostile nation steals information from our computers, an explosion rocks a German cafe, an agent teaching about cyber sex crimes accidentally catches a predator just in the few minutes she’s on a website during the seminar, a drone attack racks up significant “collateral damage,” a famous reporter admits embellishing an important story, veterans are returning with epidemic levels of PTSD, athletes’ performances are rigged with doping, the Zika virus decimates newborns.

The effect of righteousness will be peace, and the result of righteousness, quietness and trust forever.

Glean from this verse a few quick observations: that righteousness exists; that righteousness has an effect; and that that effect is profoundly desirable.

In an age of global terrorism, we read: “the effect of righteousness will be peace, and the result of righteousness, quietness and trust forever.”

In the time-worn reality of immoral leaders, we read: “the effect of righteousness will be peace, and the result of righteousness, quietness and trust forever.”

In a century when you can wake up to bad news from all over the world instantly accessible on your nightstand smart phone, we read: “the effect of righteousness will be peace, and the result of righteousness, quietness and trust forever.”

If this is what righteousness brings, it just might be worth pursuing.

Our society is beginning to think that the party might not have been worth the hangover. This is what “outgrowing” the Ten Commandments looks like. As well as shows perform with titles like “Scandal” and “Pretty Little Liars,” everyone really wants their friends to be trustworthy and their enemies to be honest. We want athletes’ performances to be honest (otherwise, what’s the fun of watching sports?), we want leaders who know that they too are under the law, we want our enemies to follow old rules of engagement that attempted to protect civilians from combat rather than deliberately targeting civilians.

In the end, we all really want peace, and trust. As we mature, we realize that the lure of drama to give self-importance is quickly hollow. Who doesn’t want a deep, profound sense of safety? And you cannot have true peace, quietness and trust without righteousness, no matter what a political candidate says.

So the song, “Let There Be Peace on Earth, and Let It Begin with Me” is half right. But peace doesn’t begin with peace. Peace begins with righteousness: submitting to the boundaries of God’s covenant with us. Part of the whole theology of salvation that John Wesley preached to everyone – not just those with a head start in life, not just those with deep pockets who could help fund his ministry, but everyone – is the promise that God’s righteousness is good and just, that God’s righteousness fused with love has poured out to cover our unrighteousness, and that not only is our unrighteousness covered, but it can also be transformed. By God’s grace, we’re not only forgiven our unrighteousness, we empowered to live righteously.

“The effect of righteousness will be peace, and the result of righteousness, quietness and trust forever.” Creation groans, we eagerly await the fulfillment of the inbreaking Kingdom of God. Until that Day, we still live in a world with death and tears. But righteousness offers glimmers of that promise.

Do you want to live in a world of peace, quietness and trust?

Put your faith in God, who will bring about his Kingdom where there will be no more crying or tears –

and –

live righteously. Do not covet, do not dishonor the Sabbath, do not give false witness, do not commit adultery, do not take on the name of God flippantly, do not dishonor your parents, and even more than these and the rest, love your enemies, walk farther than you are asked, don’t let your thoughts travel down dangerous roads even if you don’t act on them, think on things that are lovely and true and noble and trustworthy, discern and test, give thanks, pray constantly…

A tall order. “Peace, quietness and trust aren’t possible, because no one can do all that,” you think. In the past one hundred years or so, Americans have set an ever-lowering bar for ourselves, shifting from being at least taught and trained and expected to adopt certain behaviors, to setting the training of our character aside, to saying, finally, that it’s just not possible and those who suggest it is are levying a moralistic power ploy. Make no mistake, as a society we’ve also improved significantly in many areas. But it is difficult to live the Christian life, and it is even more difficult if we do not train the character of our kids, ourselves, and each other.

Righteousness in part is character development. In part, it is accepting the grace of God that melts our hardened spirits and reforms us in Christlikeness. If I want to be part of a culture of righteousness, I must exert my will to pursue individual and communal character development, and I must also accept God’s transforming grace that will shape broken parts of me away from self-destruction and towards the Word Made Flesh.

“The effect of righteousness will be peace, and the result of righteousness, quietness and trust forever.”

So what are you doing to live a life of character and grace? Are your words honest and above-board? Do your thoughts betray ego or humility? Do you think certain standards are for others but not yourself? Are you both bold and gentle in your truth-speaking? Do you shift what you say in one context and change it in another, or at a different time, depending on how it serves your current desire?

Because the effect of righteousness? It’s peace. And the result of righteousness? Quietness and trust, forever.

Wesleyan Accent ~ Interview: A Social Worker Goes to Haiti


With the Wesleyan mantra, “the world is our parish,” it’s not only pastors and long-term career missionaries who engage in missions in the 21st century, when international travel is available and common.

Recently Wesleyan Accent spoke with Sarah Jane Bearss, a case manager and special needs childcare worker who chose to live and work in Haiti for six months two years ago, on her experiences then and since.

What’s your overall career/area of study? With what church are you involved?

12800336_10156533506735543_2263795277508190563_nMy Bachelor’s degrees are in Social Work and Sociology.  I have worked with children on the autism spectrum for several years.  I acted as a case manager coordinating the team that worked with the children and their families through an intensive in-home program.

I was raised in The Wesleyan Church, went to a Wesleyan university and attended Wesleyan churches.

How did you hear about the opportunity to live out your faith in another country for a while?

My sister knew a couple that had been involved with an orphanage in Dessalines, Haiti.  The couple moved there with their two children to help run the orphanage.  When the community knew the orphanage was accepting babies again, they were overwhelmed.  They were brought four new babies in three months.  One of the little girls had numerous medical and developmental issues and they needed additional Haitian staff.  I received a text from my sister about the situation and as soon as I read it I knew I was going to Haiti.

You spent six months in the country of Haiti. How does one pick up and arrange life to go and do something like that? Did you self-fund? What were peoples’ responses to your news that you’d be living overseas for a while?

I think the answer is more simple than people would imagine – I simply said yes to God.

God was already clearing a path before I had even heard of the need in Haiti.  The family I was a nanny for told me they were going to have to move. I was part of a church plant that had been struggling for some time and the district made the painful decision to close the church.  It was one more indicator for me that I no longer needed to be in Wisconsin.

People were constantly asking me what was next and had I found someone to sublet my apartment yet.  My answer continued to be, “I don’t know” and, “no.”  The day I moved out, God provided someone to rent my apartment and saved me three months of rent and utilities.  The life I had with “safety and security” with a church family and support network of friends was gone, but it made it so easy to say yes.

There were of course many details to work out, but I was so sure I went to get all of my vaccines before I even interviewed with the American board of the orphanage.  I had no “sending church” and the organization was independent so I did have to self-fund.  I went to several churches to raise support and God provided.  I didn’t have all of the money needed before I left but enough to get there and stay for a few months.  I didn’t have extra and spent all of my savings, but I knew it was the right decision.

For the most part Christian family and friends were supportive, with concerns primarily about my safety.  It was mostly people without faith of any kind who thought I was crazy.  “Wait, they aren’t going to pay you?  You mean you have to pay to get yourself there and you’re just volunteering?  What about retirement and your future, this will set you back.” It was actually a great way to share how doing short term missions doesn’t make me a good person, the only good I do is through God’s grace.

How do you see yourself as a disciple? What do you wish more church members understood about missions involvement?

I’m a disciple just like any other follower of Jesus.  He doesn’t ask everyone to do the same things but we all need to be willing to say yes to him. I don’t feel called to full-time missions but plan to go back to Haiti. No matter where I live, I’ll be involved with children and music ministries.  Those are the areas where I’m gifted and love serving.

I wish more church members realized we are all missionaries. My geographic location while serving Jesus is not important, it’s my level of obedience where he has called me to serve. There were a few awkward moments when people would imply I was special for doing short-term missions. It was unexpected, and I would honestly respond that I was still the same person and we all work together as the body, whether locally or globally.

I also wish more church members realized what a key role they play in global missions even if they never step foot overseas. Financial support is of course important but prayer is vital.  I wouldn’t have been able to go and help without the support and encouragement from so many people.

What are some of the strongest memories of your time there?

Communion. Despite the stale crackers, flat pop and vague understanding of the service due to my toddler level vocabulary of Creole it was one of the most Spirit-filled moments of my life. Knowing friends in the states were taking communion on the same Sunday, that thousands of believers worldwide were doing the same – it was overwhelming in the best possible way. Every time I took communion in Haiti I felt more connected to the Church worldwide, past and present, than I had ever felt before.

Sarafina.  I became “mama Sarafina” in Haiti. When she came to us the extended family shared she was eight months old, her mother was dead and they could no longer care for her.  She obviously was globally developmentally delayed, had vision issues and weighed under ten pounds. We found out from members of the community and hospital she was thirteen months old and her mother was most likely mentally ill.  Sarafina had numerous medical issues.She stayed with me because she frequently stopped breathing and had daily medication I had to give her.  One of my favorite memories is her holding my finger in church while I rocked her to sleep.

Other great memories include taking a trip to the ocean with the elementary age kids, visiting Sugar Cane Park in Port au Prince with the older children and going to the market. There were Methodist missionaries from Canada that helped run the hospital in Dessalines and the weekly Bible study we had was so encouraging, and we celebrated Canadian thanksgiving together.

Did you have some reverse culture shock when you returned? How has your time in another country affected your experience of the average weekly church service?

Yes to the reverse culture shock!  Every time someone complained I wanted to tell them to zip it. I was in Haiti for six months and I’ve been back for two and a half years but in some ways I still feel I’m adjusting.  When the power goes out I feel nostalgic and I like much warmer temperatures than I used to enjoy.  The pace of life was much slower and there seemed to be a stronger sense of community at the orphanage, and I miss that in our independent and driven society.

Coming back, church seemed a bit anemic.  Church in Haiti was two and a half to three hours long. I think being there helped provide perspective and showed balance is a positive thing.

What do you think keeps most people from doing this kind of thing?

1.Fear of the unknown. Change is hard and it wasn’t easy but I would do it all over again.

2.Debt.

In your experience, what’s the main misconception people have about a country like Haiti or about a short-term missions commitment like this?

Whether or not they say the words, many people assume the whole country is poor and needs to be saved.  It’s easy for outsiders and North Americans to look at Haiti and only see the negatives such as poverty and unemployment.  In the rural areas there is often no electricity, clean drinking water or access to medical care.  However, Haiti is a beautiful country and the people are survivors.  God was at work in Haiti before I ever went and he will continue to work in that country long after I’m gone.  I wasn’t needed to save anyone, but I was blessed to be a part of the work God is doing in Haiti.

I appreciate the orphanage I went to because there is also a church, clinic and school for the community.  Many churches in the U.S. have an ongoing relationship with the people of Dessalines through the orphanage.  While a trip to “love on orphans” or do a VBS feels good, how helpful is it to the community or the children who already may have attachment issues?

Instead, an ongoing relationship with a local organization makes sure to help guide resources in the right direction and fill the biggest needs.  Many people in Haiti support themselves by selling items at market or owning a small business of some sort.  When people flood the country with rice, clothes or other goods it hurts the Haitian business people trying to make a living. A short-term missions trip should be about service and what will empower the people of Haiti to address the needs and issues in their own community.

What reflections would you offer someone who’s always wished they could travel and make a difference?

I don’t think I would have changed anything I did. Looking back I wish I could have adapted to situations in general without as much emotional turmoil. However, that’s just my human inclination to crave comfort instead of the uncertainty that often produces growth.

I would say go for it. It’s a life-changing experience to see the world from a different perspective and it’s hard to explain it to those who have not yet experienced it.

Being in Haiti pushed me to depend on God and pray in ways I hadn’t before.  Coming home was difficult because in my mind I had planned to stay an additional six months. I was having health issues; as much as I wanted to stay I knew it wasn’t the right decision. I returned in December and at the end of January my baby Sarafina died. We couldn’t get a heart surgery in Haiti because she had too many health issues and we couldn’t bring her back to the states for the same reason. I lost the daughter of my heart. When people ask if I have children I don’t know what to say and it often still makes me want to cry.

His strength is made perfect in my weakness, so if I don’t share what God has brought me through, how can others know how good God has been to me? I don’t want people to hear the negatives and focus on that, but on how God has been with me through it all. And despite my failures he can continue to use me no matter where I am.

Christianity Vectors by Vecteezy

American Freedom or Christian Freedom?

Always a lover of history, currently I’m partway through Ron Chernow’s excellent biography of American Founding Father Alexander Hamilton – the book, incidentally, which son of Puerto Rican immigrants Lin-Manuel Miranda turned into the hit Broadway musical. With a decent dose of Scot in my blood, I can get into any story of a struggle for freedom easily. Why else would I own a t-shirt emblazoned with “Boadicea: Warrior Queen of the Celts“?

While I do not lack in feistiness, the principle, reality, ideal or goal of freedom has preoccupied my thinking lately, because my feistiness can serve Christ in different ways. And feistiness doesn’t always serve its own desire for personal freedom.

Consider the Apostle Paul: a feisty disciple of Christ if ever there was one – after all, “I confronted Peter to his face,” and Dr. Luke tells us in Acts of Paul and Barnabas’ sharp dispute and parting. But the feisty Saul-turned-Paul was not allowed to fight for himself – “to live is Christ, to die, gain.” He went from breathing murderous threats and arresting Christians to a great deal of suffering (imprisonment, harsh travel, shipwreck, beatings) and dying for his faith. Saul was feisty; Paul was feisty. Saul was feisty for a cause. Paul was feisty for Christ.

Anyone who follows international news (and North Americans have to discipline themselves to do so, because our news sources focus on North American news or “news” almost exclusively) is quickly acquainted with the varying degrees of political and religious freedom around the world. Recently Russia has been debating religious freedom, possibly putting the most restrictions on it since the fall of the Soviet Union (outlawing evangelism online or even invitations to a private residence for the purpose of religious meeting). Recently ISIS burned 19 Yazidi women alive in a cage for refusing to have sex with ISIS fighters. Reading these headlines should rekindle gratitude for freedom in the hearts of those who, at least for the time being, have it. After all, freedom is not and has never been a guarantee. 

Yet as proud as I am that a great-great-relative fought and was injured in the Civil War, specifically against slavery – as proud as I am that great-great-relatives fought in the Revolutionary War – as grateful as I am for young men who retched into their helmets as they prepared to land on the beaches of Normandy – as grateful as I am for a nation that is maddeningly imperfect but still remains a hope, an ideal, a far-off luxury in the minds of millions – Christians are called to exercise their freedom for others. If there is any great divide, it may be the difference between Americans who, in general, exercised their freedom for others, and Americans who, in general, exercised their freedom for themselves.

How ought Christians to steward our freedom, wherever we live in the world, whether we live in relative abundance of freedom or whether we live in restrictive, closed countries with censored internet?

“I have the right to do anything,” you say—but not everything is beneficial. “I have the right to do anything”—but not everything is constructive. No one should seek their own good, but the good of others.

Eat anything sold in the meat market without raising questions of conscience,  for, “The earth is the Lord’s, and everything in it.”

If an unbeliever invites you to a meal and you want to go, eat whatever is put before you without raising questions of conscience.But if someone says to you, “This has been offered in sacrifice,” then do not eat it, both for the sake of the one who told you and for the sake of conscience.I am referring to the other person’s conscience, not yours. For why is my freedom being judged by another’s conscience? If I take part in the meal with thankfulness, why am I denounced because of something I thank God for?

So whether you eat or drink or whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God. Do not cause anyone to stumble, whether Jews, Greeks or the church of God— even as I try to please everyone in every way. For I am not seeking my own good but the good of many, so that they may be saved. – I Cor. 10:23-33

Paul writes here about personal freedom to do something in good conscience that someone else may have qualms about. The principle is similar to not drinking in front of a recovering alcoholic: you may have no problem with addiction, but out of concern and love and even basic politeness, you give up your “freedom” to drink when you are with that person, because the person is worth more than your right to exercise that freedom.

In a society compulsively obsessed with individual rights, this is revolutionary. Of course, in North America, I have the right to post something on Facebook. But maybe I shouldn’t as someone called to be feisty for Christ more than feisty for my nationality. In another nation, of course, I have the right to report my neighbor for something. But maybe I shouldn’t as someone called to be feisty for Christ more than feisty for my government. For Christians, all causes must be submitted to Christ, viewed through Christ, sanctified to be Christlike. I cannot love my cause more than my Christ. I cannot define myself more by my cause than my Christ. I cannot give more for my cause than I give my Christ.

Patriotism isn’t a form of faith; it’s a form of being a good citizen. Patriotism, then, is always subservient to Christ (as Europeans who illegally hid Jews in their homes in the 1940’s practiced at great sacrifice). Our citizenship does not define us, though: we are pilgrims, as John Bunyan pictured, pilgrims, travelers, strangers, foreigners – refugees… The author of Hebrews paints this reality beautifully in chapter 11:

“By faith Abraham obeyed when he was called to set out for a place that he was to receive as an inheritance; and he set out, not knowing where he was going. By faith he stayed for a time in the land he had been promised, as in a foreign land, living in tents, as did Isaac and Jacob, who were heirs with him of the same promise. For he looked forward to the city that has foundations, whose architect and builder is God.

Therefore from one person, and this one as good as dead, descendants were born, ‘as many as the stars of heaven and as the innumerable grains of sand by the seashore.’

All of these died in faith without having received the promises, but from a distance they saw and greeted them. They confessed that they were strangers and foreigners on the earth,for people who speak in this way make it clear that they are seeking a homeland. If they had been thinking of the land that they had left behind, they would have had opportunity to return. But as it is, they desire a better country, that is, a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God; indeed, he has prepared a city for them.”

All the citizens of earth hunger for “a better country;” we know that the best country on earth still suffers natural disaster or disease, war or poverty. But for Americans, for Iraqis, for Russians, for Nigerians, for Tibetans, for all from pole to pole who “desire a better country, that is, a heavenly one,” God is not ashamed of them. There is no shame in refusing to exercise individual liberty, for the sake of others; it is the way of Jesus.

Elizabeth Glass Turner ~ Camp Meetings and Revivals in 21st Century North American Methodism

A couple of generations ago in North America, camp meetings and revivals were not uncommon in many Wesleyan Methodist traditions, flourishing in part from their popularity in the 19th century across frontiers. Outdoor meetings or camp meetings or week-long revival series held in local churches perhaps helped to pave the way for Billy Graham’s famous evangelistic crusades that inhabited tents long before he ever filled a stadium.

An engraving of a Methodist camp meeting from 1819, almost 200 years ago.
An engraving of a Methodist camp meeting from 1819, almost 200 years ago.

Not all Methodist practices included this revivalistic streak: there were plenty of downtown First churches with more formal liturgy, and to an extent there were some class delineations – though camp meetings and revivals were never restricted to blue collar folks, and the towering downtown First churches themselves had their roots somewhere in early circuit rider preaching. But most Wesleyan Methodist denominations have links to some kind of regional campground, even if it’s used mostly for the kids and youth.

In the photographs I have seen, in the histories related, sadly many of these twentieth-century camp meetings or revival series seem quite monochromatic: Black churches and White churches held their own events. (In the first half of the 1900’s Black Americans still had to travel with reference to the Green Book, a small travel guide noting which towns were safe to drive through, which hotels and restaurants served Blacks, and so on. You couldn’t just get in your car and go: that could leave you stranded, or hungry, or worse. If anyone has records, photos or reminiscences of integrated revival meetings or camp meetings, be sure to let me know.) It wasn’t just White Methodists who enjoyed camp meeting: denominations like A.M.E. Zion have a long tradition of camp meetings. Bishop W. Darin Moore notes in The Sound of Revival,

Bishop J.W. Hood
Bishop J.W. Hood

From the numerous renowned preachers of the Methodist movement including John Wesley, George Whitfield, Francis Asbury, and William E. Sangster, to Zion’s own array of preaching giants, such as but not limited to James Varick, James Walker Hood, Joseph Charles Price, Benjamin G. Shaw, Alfred G. Dunston, and Clinton R. Coleman, preaching has been the heart and soul of personal transformation, as well as community and church renewal.

Recently as we packed to travel to a rural camp meeting – my husband’s great-grandfather helped found it – I mused about whether conferences have effectively taken place of most revival series or camp meetings. On the one hand, conferences could be seen as the Yuppie’s ordo salutis: name tags, name-brand coffee, name recognition speakers. On the other hand, some revival series and camp meetings remain, continuing to attract various age groups and sometimes exhibiting slow but steady growth in more diverse demographics.

The Indiana campground I traveled to as a child had an open-air tabernacle, cabins, RV spots, ancient dorms, and a large, noisy dining room. It was decided the tabernacle should be enclosed and air conditioned, padded chairs replacing the long wooden slat bench pews. Not long after that, attendance dwindling, it was closed down, then sold. Though sad for me on a personal level, much as I detest the heat I hadn’t wanted it changed, in part because it seemed to me that if we had just waited a bit longer, shown some patience, it would’ve come back. These things are cyclical. Now I look at mandolin-playing hipsters who (while enjoying their strong coffee) would see that campground as a kind of authentic get-back-to-nature, learn-about-our-roots experience, and I think I was right, even if they would’ve wanted some artisanal organic snacks sold next to the Cheetos at the concession stand.

I think there’s room enough for conferences, revivals and camp meetings (even if “revivals” are now called “summit” or “spiritual emphasis week” or “Revive:The Awakening” #awakened). For one thing, physically setting apart time in a dedicated space grabs your whole body’s attention: it breaks up your habits, your routine. You physically go somewhere specifically for the purpose of attending to your soul. For another thing, taking several days, or a week, to do so is somewhere between Sabbath and tithing on the scale of spiritual disciplines: you mark to yourself and others that it is important to you in your time, schedule and budget to learn, listen, examine, rest, and receive. Additionally, when it’s possible, families who attend – whether nuclear or multigenerational, adopted or stepparents – families as a unit can set aside time both to be together and to attend to their souls.

That said, our conferences, revivals (#awaken) and camp meetings must morph and stretch. Preachers cannot assume a baseline of biblical knowledge among kids and youth (and adults). More and more children and teens come from broken homes, brought by a grandparent. Elementary and high school ministries are populated by racially diverse participants – is the speakers’ platform? In the technology and globalization age, even middle schoolers have access to extraordinarily hard core explicit material with ten minutes of solitude and a click of a few buttons. They also have instant access to the same tragic headlines about news that adults do, even if they receive it through Snapchat, not CNN. A sweaty fifth grader may be staring back at you from a pew, worrying about whether he’ll ever be in the middle of a mass shooting: after all, some elementary schools have active shooter drills instead of Cold War A-bomb drills. And this is one weakness of the #conference movement: targeted audiences mean the pigeonholing of generations, vocations and sometimes gender. You can’t take the whole family to most conferences, and they wouldn’t want you to anyway.

What’s your experience of multi-generational spiritual retreats? Have you ever been to a faith-based camp meeting or a week of special church services? What did you like or dislike about it? Was it a diverse gathering? How would you describe it to someone who had never before participated?

Elizabeth Glass Turner ~ Recapping United Methodist General Conference Recaps

United Methodists and many others followed the 2016 General Conference in Portland with fervent interest. Whether you watched livestreaming (a primer in do’s and don’ts of parliamentary procedure), caught a few random comments on social networks or read daily summaries from the United Methodist News Service or the UM Reporter, by now there are a lot of perspectives on what went down – and what didn’t.

Various interest groups immediately went into spin mode, from Reconciling Ministries Network to the Council of Bishops to the Institute on Religion and Democracy. Everyone wanted to attempt to claim a victory for their cause. On the other hand, the problem with grassroots internet communications these days is that hyperbole has become easy currency. Whatever position isn’t mine will immediately cause the End Of The World As We Know It. This isn’t a biblical perspective or even a sensible one, and it can be skinned down to random blanket statements or dressed up in semi-rational pseudo-arguments. Unfortunately General Conference for United Methodists coincides with the U.S. presidential election cycle, every four years. Heaven help us.

While there is context to everything, a few facts can be known about the gathering of United Methodist clergy and lay delegates from around the world, of United Methodist boards, institutions, societies and agencies, of United Methodist caucuses and interest groups, of various religious bodies, activists and news agencies that converged on Portland.

  1. The rules by which the conference will abide must be established at the beginning before business begins. Delegates spent three days at the beginning of the two-week gathering debating one new proposed rule and later lamented how short they were on time.

    Photo: Kathleen Barry, UMNS
    Photo: Kathleen Barry, UMNS
  2. Hundreds of petitions get voted on in committees for several days at conference. If the committee passes something, it can make it to the floor of General Conference to be voted on by the elected delegates. (Note: Much legislation never makes to discussion on the floor at General Conference because they always run out of time.) 2016 proved to be a year in which the global contingencies made their presence felt in voting. When a committee gathers, not only are elected delegates participating, but observers are present recording votes and communicating them to the groups who have particular interest in whether or not something passes committee. A reliable report from one committee communicated that there was screaming – actual screaming – during one long, strained committee session. (Committee sessions are not livestreamed.)
  3. Hours of plenary time is spent on what could be called diplomatic formalities: special presentations, video reports, a great deal of special music, greetings given and received, guests acknowledged, sermons shared. If anything could be acknowledged, it is that community worship cannot manufacture unity, nor can it “guilt” participants into agreeing with each other.
  4. It is the controversial practice of United Methodist communications to cut livestream during protests.
    Photo: Kathleen Barry, UMNS
    Photo: Kathleen Barry, UMNS

    Protests by LGBT groups in the midst of conference business are expected, though not formally scheduled. Sometimes activists also hold press conferences in one location while business continues on the floor. The level and duration of disruption varies.

  5. Everyone – American and international clergy and lay delegates, presiding Bishops, supporting Bishops – everyone needs a short orientation seminar on the basics of Robert’s Rules and on how to track the various stages of a motion.

In the midst of all this, a few things happened. The Judicial Council was voted on and is now an extremely international and diverse body. The United Methodist Church delegates voted to end its relationship with the Religious Coalition for Reproductive Choice. Delegates also voted to double the amount of money put towards theological education in Africa.

Photo: Kathleen Barry, UMNS
Photo: Kathleen Barry, UMNS

However, delegates also voted to ask for leadership from the Council of Bishops before voting on anything related to human sexuality. When this happened, the Council of Bishops spent a night working on a proposal and presented it the next morning. Essentially the proposal suspended any business at conference related to human sexuality and proposed the creation of a commission to study Book of Discipline paragraphs related to the topic. It also proposed a possible specially called gathering in two or three years to meet about the findings of the commission. An alteration of the proposal failed. The original proposal then somehow passed. What was unclear was whether legislation related to reorganization or separation within the denomination was included in the tabling of discussion on human sexuality. Apparently it either was included, or caucuses decided not to pursue the question, because after that vote, no action was taken on proposals for dealing with the controversy in the denomination.

Response was immediate: some people breathed a sigh of relief to again avoid finally addressing the deep theological differences in The United Methodist Church (adoption of the Nicene Creed as a doctrinal standard failed in committee). Activists who have worked long and hard were devastated that votes on LGBT issues would not happen this year. Some traditionalists saw the commission as an opportunity to help form the conversation, while others were gut-wrenchingly frustrated that the conversation that needed to be had was not being had. A rather depressed pall hung over the plenary sessions after delegates voted to create a season of “discernment” or “kicking the can down the road,” depending on who you talked to. Protests were still being held, and votes on whether or not to divest from fossil fuel industries were held around the elephant that remained in the room, whether it was talked about and voted on or not.

Because of course whether or not it was discussed on the floor of General Conference, the theological differences and disagreements on petitions related to human sexuality were everywhere – in hallway chats, on the Twitter live feed, around cafe table discussions, on Facebook, in the news.

About five seconds after General Conference finally ended, not with a bang but with a whimper, Things Started Happening: the Northern Illinois Board of Ministry announced it would not act within the agreement of United Methodist life together (formally called the Book of Discipline), and would welcome candidates of any, all, or no sexual orientation for ministry. Then Bishop Scott Jones from the Great Plains Conference reiterated his position in the follow-up proceedings against a pastor that, while aligned with the Book of Discipline, is a completely different practice from northern Illinois.

A great number of General Conference recaps emerged, post-game analysis from scholars, pastors, and theological pundits dissecting what had – and hadn’t – happened, and why.

Which brings us to today.

In the context of all this, here are several of the best post-mortems of the 2016 General Conference of the [United] Methodist Church. All of them should be read with the awareness that United Methodism is not the only expression of the Wesleyan Methodist movement worldwide: hardly. Over 80 denominations in over 130 countries are Wesleyan Methodist. North Americans tend to be sentimental about the United Methodist branch of the family tree, because architecturally Methodist churches grew along with many Main Streets and downtowns, an expression of Americana, merging with the Evangelical United Brethren in 1968. But Methodism itself grows in a great many iterations, United Methodists being only one.

Here, then, are several recaps that stand out in their insight or the excellence with which their perspective has been put forward (and they cover a range of perspectives)*:

An appeal for change from Progressive activist Rev. Bill Mefford, “Liberation Delayed: A Vision for a Progressive Methodist Church”

From Next Generation Minister Rev. Jeremy Steele, a hope for unity, “Real Hope for the United Methodist Church

 

From Asbury Theological Seminary President Dr. Timothy Tennent, “An Open Pastoral Letter to United Methodists”

 

From scholar Dr. William Abraham, a cerebral analysis of trends, “The Birth Pangs of the UMC as a Unique, Global, and Orthodox Denomination”

From scholar Dr. Bill Arnold, a survey of ecclesiological identity, “Yes, It’s Time: Time to Decide Who We Are and What We Believe”

From church planter and speaker Rev. Carolyn Moore a trilogy of wisdom, “Betty Crocker and the United Methodist Church,” “The High Cost of Unholy Fear,” and “What Just Happened: My Take on GC2016” 

 

*It is acknowledged that many United Methodist-related pastoral or scholarly blogs are written by North Americans, particularly Caucasian men. Many women and people of color may share opinions and viewpoints on Facebook or Twitter but do not necessarily publish their own blog. Consider following pastors on Twitter, like @LisaYebuah, @JenniferMoxley, @KimsNextStep, @joyjmoore, @CarolynCMoore, and @JessicaLaGrone.

 

 

Elizabeth Glass Turner ~ A Full Basin: The Purpose of Orthodoxy

Orthodoxy gets a bad rap these days. At a time when distinction is seen as an evil – this or that, one or the other – orthodoxy is seen as presumptive, divisive and unwarranted. To say one thing is right or rightful is to deny the right or rightfulness of something else – an inconceivable vanity, a tired, predictable power-play of the literal-minded who have not yet grown beyond certain categories in their faith formation.

Passing over the irony that the denial of a creed is, in itself, a creed, what exactly is the purpose of orthodoxy? Too large a question for a short reflection, and one that academics would undoubtedly plumb in detailed excellence. But let’s go for broke and at least sketch a few characteristics.

The purpose of orthodoxy is to align followers of Jesus Christ with God and with one another. Yes, this assumes that it’s possible to get out of alignment. But even if we say that judging is a great evil, we practice it regularly in real life because we must: we align our tires, we align scientific instruments, we align our habits with healthy guidelines, we align our behavior with our beliefs. If we neglect realignment, we face the hard reality of entropy – our tires are unaligned, our instruments are unreliable, our health suffers, our behavior harms ourselves and others. “But God is beyond understanding in a way you cannot compare with our comprehension of how to make a car run well. How can you align with someone or something you can’t claim to comprehend?”

The purpose of orthodoxy is assert an embodied, knowable reality that is knowable truly even if it can’t be known fully. The Word Made Flesh means that almighty God knew how to make the heartbeat of Trinitarian love known to our well-meaning but tiny minds. Orthodoxy points us again and again to the idea that we can know because the Incarnation reveals that God wants us to know. If we even hesitantly reach for the idea that the Word Became Flesh, that infinite God took on humanity, then we accept the idea that something of God can be known because God made sure of it. So if we out of hand reject the possibility of the Son of God being born in carbon-based, fetal-heartbeat reality, then we immediately make a statement about what we think can be known of God – or not known.

The purpose of orthodoxy is to proclaim that God so loved that God so revealed the internal nature of God through Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ is the ultimate revelation of the nature of God, and we treasure Holy Scripture because we trust that the same grace that revealed itself in Christ preserves the redemptive narrative of God’s interaction with humanity in the pages of Holy Scripture. And this is a reality of beauty.

Orthodoxy is beautiful because it aligns us with Jesus Christ and with one another. It is beautiful because it asserts an embodied reality that is known truly if not comprehensively. It is beautiful because it proclaims that God loves the world so much that God revealed the divine nature through Jesus Christ.

The creeds that house these heirloom beliefs of the Christian faith are beautiful. They are not ugly or divisive or a predictable will to power.

If we do not agree about how God has revealed the inner workings of God’s own self, we may still affirm each other’s humanity, each other’s value, each other’s beauty, each other’s worth. We may live in kind regard and friendship. We may live as caring neighbors. We may live in service to each other. We may donate a kidney to each other. We may cheer each other’s kids in sports. We may send emergency relief in tragedy. But we do not share the same heirloom beliefs of the Christian faith, and we probably cannot worship together indefinitely. And that’s alright.

The beauty of orthodoxy doesn’t leave room for ill-will: it simply doesn’t. It washes the feet of friend, neighbor, enemy, the same. Common worship is essential for any connected faith body. The Amish and Mennonites and some contemplative Catholics all submit themselves to this reality: with pacifist intent, they order their worship as they best understand and wish others well, ready and active in serving those of other faiths or no faith at all. There is a time to celebrate the Eucharist, and a time to celebrate a service of foot-washing. Maybe the time has come for the latter. That is how we might lovingly pay honor to each other as, with mutual respect, we might depart to order our common worship as we best see fit.

So there is a gentle beauty to orthodoxy that sounds a great deal like leather sandals being slid off of calloused feet, like the splash of water being poured from a pitcher into a basin, like a cloth being wrung out, like a towel rubbing against a cracked heel.

It was just before the Passover Festival. Jesus knew that the hour had come for him to leave this world and go to the Father. Having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end. Jesus knew that the Father had put all things under his power, and that he had come from God and was returning to God; so he got up from the meal, took off his outer clothing, and wrapped a towel around his waist. After that, he poured water into a basin and began to wash his disciples’ feet, drying them with the towel that was wrapped around him. When he had finished washing their feet, he put on his clothes and returned to his place. “Do you understand what I have done for you?” he asked them. “You call me ‘Teacher’ and ‘Lord,’ and rightly so, for that is what I am. Now that I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also should wash one another’s feet. I have set you an example that you should do as I have done for you. Very truly I tell you, no servant is greater than his master, nor is a messenger greater than the one who sent him. Now that you know these things, you will be blessed if you do them. – John 13:1-5, 12-17 (NIV)

 


Featured image courtesy Fabien Bazanegue via Unsplash.

Elizabeth Glass Turner ~ What A Successful Conference Looks Like

It is the season of punditry.

So goes life as a U.S. citizen who belongs to The United Methodist Church. General Conference cycles match up with the presidential election cycle: every four years, we encounter heated tempers, technicolor bluster and threats to move to Canada. This year the hype in the United States is reaching near radioactive levels of intensity. Beneath the strident cadence of religious and political talking heads lies a current of fear – not unwarranted: will the radioactivity evaporate our identities, leaving only our shadow imprinted on the wall?

Those who lament that public discourse has gotten out of hand have a point. On the one hand, as the historical hip-hop musical/runaway success “Hamilton” reminds us, our nation’s DNA is laced with potent personalities arguing for the best way forward. As caustic as presidential debates may get, no one has once again died in a duel at the hand of the Vice President (yet). On the other hand, it’s like a splash of cold water to view old footage from 1980’s political debates. The change is astounding. Something is qualitatively different.

The past few days Twitter has been cluttered by pastors, District Superintendents and Bishops praying for a “successful” General Conference. In 2016, what does a successful General Conference look like? Does it look like one where parliamentary proceedings avoid giving the floor to anyone with a spray tan and blueprints for a giant wall? Does it look like a gathering with international media coverage that manages to avoid protests, riots and arrests? Does it look like a gathering with international media coverage that manages to foster protests, riots and arrests?

Does a successful General Conference look like #itstime, #wearemore, or #faithfulumc? (The #wearemore hashtag is the branding apparatus of Bishops with ulcers who are attempting to remind everyone that this is a long road trip and we are more when we are together, regardless of who is squabbling in the backseat because “he’s looking at me funny!” The question is whether the grave topics under consideration at General Conference are mere backseat squabbling or whether #theyaremore than that.

What does a successful General Conference look like? A lack of blow-up’s, a hopeful kick of the can down the road? A presence of confrontation, an urgent appeal for honesty and resolution?

How do you have a successful conference when participants are wedded – for a variety of reasons – to positions they feel they must hold at all costs?

The problem with pluralism is the evaporation of telos. How can we move toward a common goal successfully together? That telos, that goal, that end-game, means significantly different things to us. The problem isn’t that we can’t work together. It’s that we’re working towards different ends. To minimize those differences disrespects everyone involved.

In the case of human sexuality within The United Methodist Church, for instance, it doesn’t shut down the argument to proclaim that the Supreme Court of the United States has ruled: many religious bodies – significant ones – still practice a mode of spiritual formation that reflects a traditional stance on marriage and sexuality, including the Roman Catholic Church under the popular leadership of Pope Francis, conservative Judaism, and many branches of moderate Islam. And so United Methodists of different convictions may be willing to work together, but underneath that sentiment is the dread often felt in a dead-end relationship: where is this headed? Is it sustainable? I care about this person, but do we have a significant compatibility issue? What if we’re loathe to stop working together but we are working towards different ends?

So rather successful outcomes – because those vary widely depending on who you ask – what are the attributes of a successful 2016 General Conference of The United Methodist Church?

A successful General Conference will be one in which honesty is practiced with humility. The constituents, organizations and movements present need to be extremely honest about their intentions, goals and convictions – no matter what that means for the future of how we live and worship. Fear of divorce can lead to a lack of bluntness, the inability to frankly and simply express oneself. But the honesty must live and breathe in the ecosphere of humility (not that humility means capitulation). Humility doesn’t mean setting aside conviction. It means the willingness to serve another with whom you disagree while you live your conviction with integrity. It means holding the door open for someone who has made your life difficult.

A successful General Conference will be one in which respect is shown in the mode in which business is conducted. If business is interrupted (a great deal of time, energy, money and travel go into planning General Conference) by special interest groups, be they the Green Party, Right to Life, or GLAAD, then it is fair to ask if the behavior embodies respect for the gathering, however much one might agree with the platform of the protesting group. This is particularly pertinent when it comes to non-members of The United Methodist Church demonstrating on the floor during business. This becomes potently illustrated if you conduct a simple thought experiment: would you vote to allow non-United Methodist members to demonstrate on the floor during business if they came to demonstrate on behalf of a certain presumptive presidential nominee? (Or would you vote to allow United Methodists to demonstrate on the floor during business if they came to demonstrate on behalf of a certain presumptive presidential nominee? Here I suggest the convened body should have a say, and not just the presiding chair.)

A successful General Conference will be one in which the worldwide nature of the church will be celebrated as central to the United Methodist identity rather than an appendix to its agenda. If non-English speakers’ perspectives are dismissed, because of the content or because of their place of origin or race, then respect will not have been shown. Eight years ago international delegates to General Conference faced challenges like receiving their preparatory materials months after North Americans did. They sometimes were asked to vote on what in English were oddly worded amendments or proposals after having the content translated twice, such as from English to French and from French to Swahili. Rather than embrace global delegates, some North Americans, seeing their presence as a hassle, promoted the idea of giving them their “own” conference – a gross failure of basic inclusion at best, and reminiscent of the days of American segregationalism at worst. An intentionally “international” opening worship service serves to highlight the global reach of the denomination – but perhaps in a similar way to highlighting diversity at the Oscars.

As the World Methodist Council reminds us, Wesleyan Methodism has deep, historic roots globally. The Council, which includes The United Methodist Church in the denominations it represents, brings together at least 80 denominations from over 130 countries involving over 80 million people. General Conference is not a time to practice geographical hubris with a colonial residue of paternalistic impatience. Simply put, despite all the “ministry of monitoring” that goes in to making General Conference inclusive, how many members of General Boards and Committees are North American? For all the talk of sharing power, North Americans seem particularly loathe to do so.

Finally, a successful General Conference will be one in which decisions are made. What a simple sentence: what a complex proposal. If honesty is practiced with humility, some decisions need to be made. Sometimes the worst outcome is one in which millions of dollars and work hours are spent in order to tread water. The worst case scenario isn’t, as actress Gwyneth Paltrow would put it, a “conscious uncoupling.” The worst case scenario is that blood pressures will skyrocket and mud will be flung all so that nothing changes – a dysfunctional and untenable position.

A failed General Conference has little to do with whether or not The United Methodist Church chooses to continue to exist in its old form or in new iterations. A failed General Conference will be one in which honesty is swallowed by the desire to appease or to protect the status quo; in which humility is swallowed by a sense of entitlement; in which disrespect is shown in the mode in which business is done; in which the worldwide nature of the Body of Christ is re-sketched with North American features; and in which no clear, coherent, time-bound decisions are made in any direction.

Go, therefore, to your committee meetings and plenary gatherings, to the visitors’ gallery and the restroom, to planning sessions and café tables, and consider your conversations, plans and prayers with these questions in mind: if we’re really honest, what do we want this to look like in four years? If we’re really honest, what is it likely to look like in four years? What decisions will help those to be one and the same thing?

…on earth, as it is in heaven.

Steve Beard ~ Soul Man: The Sweet Sound of Al Green

When British musician Elvis Costello was asked if he had ever had a religious experience, he responded, “No, but I have heard Al Green.” Not a bad compliment coming from Costello, a musical legend in his own right.

The legendary Rev. Al Green turns 70 today.

Green rose to international fame with timeless hits such as “Let’s Stay Together,” “Call Me,” “Take Me to the River,” “I’m Still in Love with You,” “Tired of Being Alone,” and “Love and Happiness.” In the early 1970s, he sold more than 20 million albums. He was the Prince of Love, the man with the trademark smile that made women swoon in near-riotous concerts as he tossed long stem red roses to adoring fans. A few years ago, Rolling Stone declared that Green is “the greatest popular singer of all time,” describing his songs as “unsurpassed in their subtlety, grace, intimacy, and invention.”

His silky smooth voice was coupled with stage charisma and undeniable charm. He was the consummate ladies’ man. His voice was a liquid calling card, wooing the listener into a sensuous and lush boudoir of his own creation.

In the summer of 1973, he had an experience that would forever change his life. He had flown from San Francisco to Anaheim, California, for his next show. Shortly after four in the morning, he was awakened by the sounds of shouting. “I sat bolt upright in bed, frightened that some crazy fan had broken into the room,” he writes in his autobiography, Take Me To The River. Green then realized that the commotion he was hearing was coming from his own mouth. “And while the words I shouted were of no earthly tongue, I immediately recognized what they meant. I was praising God…and lifting my voice to heaven with the language of angels to proclaim his majesty on high.”

He laughed. He cried. He knocked on doors of the hotel, telling complete strangers what had happened to him. One woman slammed the door in his face. Someone eventually called security.

Saint Paul was converted on the road to Damascus; Al Green was made righteous off Interstate 5 near Disneyland.

Green had been singing about love and happiness, but there was a war going on inside—a battle for the substance of his soul. He eventually abandoned his mainstream singing career in 1976 and began pastoring Full Gospel Tabernacle in Memphis, Tennessee.

For eight years, he sang only Gospel until he sensed God give him the green light to sing his old songs. Today, the soul man still puts on the pizzazz in mainstream venues. Resplendent in his white suit and Ray Ban sunglasses, and loaded with long stem roses like a florist, he still has the magic to commandeer the human heart, making it pulse in romance or worship—our very own funky St. Valentine.

“Now I am comfortable mixing everything up, and my audience has responded favorably,” he told the Los Angeles Times several years ago. “When I finished a short prayer at this gig…, people stood up and cheered. That told me that I could give audiences a little bit of the Reverend and they’d likely rejoice.” He sings “Amazing Grace” in casino showrooms in Las Vegas and Lake Tahoe, knowing that many of his admirers hunger for redemption just as he once had.

Full Gospel Tabernacle’s unassuming geodesic sanctuary is tucked in on the side of a quiet residential road, a few miles south of Graceland, off Elvis Presley Boulevard. For 40 years, it has played host to a myriad of music fans who make it a part of their Memphis pilgrimage. They stick out like sore thumbs, showing up promptly at 11 a.m. for a service that will not start for another half-hour. One Sunday while I was visiting, they appeared from Ireland, Arkansas, Nebraska, Minnesota, North Carolina, and England.

The visitors are greeted warmly. After all these years, the congregation has become very familiar with the novelty factor involved with having a musical icon behind the pulpit. Nevertheless, they are here to get down with God, not impress the guests (for example, there are none of Green’s Greatest Hits collections sold in the church lobby). The choir marches in and the B-3 Hammond organ starts to crank up the funk, while the electric guitar starts to wail.

Reverend Al walks around the sanctuary fiddling with his lapel microphone, gently patting visitors on the shoulder as he glides to the back of the sanctuary to adjust his own sound at the mixing board.

Back at the pulpit, Reverend Al is feeling the “unction of the Holy Ghost,” as he calls it. He starts to bob and weave like a boxer as he delivers his sermon on faith. “Hold on, God is coming!” he shouts. “Help is on the way,” he purrs. When he calls for the assembly to give a wave offering by lifting our arms, you can see the nervousness rise in the visitors. Awkwardly, we wave our arms in the air. Who is going to refuse Reverend Al? “Thank you, Jesus! Thank you, Jesus! Stop looking at Al Green,” he says. “Al Green himself came to worship God. He’s been soooo good to me,” he starts to sing as the musicians crank up the volume.

When he starts singing “One Day at a Time, Sweet Jesus,” you know you have been to church. “You are not here by accident,” he says. “I am the same person you heard sing all those songs, but I am not the same person,” he testifies. “I couldn’t preach for 25 years if something didn’t happen to me.” Speaking to the visitors with a winsome grin, he says, “Come and see Al, but Al doesn’t hold the key to your salvation. I can sing ‘Love and Happiness’ four times and I still will not hold your salvation.”

The Reverend closes out the 11 o’clock service at 1:25 p.m. with a soul-felt version of “Gonna Sit Down on the Banks of the River” by blues legend Reverend Gary Davis. He leaves us at the banks, and the decision is ours. Shall we jump in or walk away? You can tell what Green has done. You can see it in his eyes, in his smile, in the intonations of his honey-like voice.

Otis Redding died in a plane crash at 26, Sam Cooke was shot at 33, Jackie Wilson’s career was over at 41, and Marvin Gaye was killed by his father at 44. Al Green is alive—and he is grateful. Somebody shout, Amen!

It is one thing to sing about love and happiness; it is an entirely different enterprise to experience it. As he grabs hold of the pulpit, festooned in his preaching robe, you can see it on his face. He arrived at the river’s edge and took a dive into faith. He looks up at us with a grin and seems to say, “Hop in. The water’s fine.”


This article is adapted from Spiritual Journeys: How Faith Has Influenced Twelve Music Icons (Relevant).

Kimberly Reisman ~ I Am For My Beloved

I’m reading a poetry anthology, The Longing in Between: Sacred Poetry from Around the World compiled by Ivan Granger.* It’s dovetailing nicely with the Lenten season, although I can’t really take credit for that.

One of the poems was particularly meaningful for me – On Those Words “I am for My Beloved.” It was written by Teresa of Avila after a deeply mystical encounter in which she experienced an angel piercing her heart with divine love.

Already I gave my self completely,

and have changed in such a way

That my Beloved is for me

and I am for my Beloved.

 

When the gentle hunter shot me

and left me in all my weakness,

in the arms of love

my soul fell

and being charged with new life

I have changed in such a way

That My Beloved is for me

And I am for my Beloved.

 

He pierced me with an arrow

laced with the herbs of love

and my soul became one

with her Creator;

I no longer want another love,

since I have given myself to my God,

That My Beloved is for me

and I am for my Beloved.

(English version by Megan Don)

 

As I meditated on Teresa’s words, they cradled me, assured me, comforted me.

…in all my weakness, in the arms of love…

…My Beloved is for me…

I might have stopped there, but her words continued, this time with challenge.

…charged with new life

…I have been changed…

…I have given myself to God…

…I am for my Beloved…

I wrestled with the juxtaposition between comfort and challenge. Then my eyes were drawn to Granger’s commentary, which led me deeper still:

When the mind settles and the soul waits in courageously vulnerable readiness, the most amazing thing happens: the heart blooms. The heart opens and expands. Effortlessly, the heart reaches out, with a wider span than we ever imagined possible, embracing all of creation. We become flooded with something beyond feeling or emotion. There is a sense of finally recognizing one’s very nature within the heart, that this is the seat of our being.

When focused inward, we are enraptured, filled with bliss. When focused outward, we are an embodiment of love. We begin to feel so much more, all the world’s suffering and searching and occasional surges of life, and it is all beautiful and somehow a part of us.

As Lent unfolds I realize that my challenge is that of waiting in “courageously vulnerable readiness.” I deeply desire to be an embodiment of love; but do I really understand what it means to have my heart truly “pierced” by God? Can I honestly affirm with Teresa that “I gave myself completely”?

My prayer is that I do and that I can. That would be my prayer for you as well. That we would be able to claim both of Teresa’s truths: I am for my Beloved and My Beloved is for me.

 

*The Longing in Between: Sacred Poetry from Around the World, a Poetry Chaikhana anthology, edited with commentary by Ivan M. Granger, 2014 (Kindle Edition).