This past week, the Reverend Howard-John Wesley of Alfred Street Baptist Church made a bold confession from the pulpit: that he was tired and felt distant from God. He even noted that most people think that working in a church means you are good with God. But nothing could be further from the truth. And as a result, after Christmas he will be taking a sabbatical until Easter. A lot of clergy and church folks shared his message on Facebook, me being one of them. I, and scores of other pastors, applauded Wesley’s honesty and vulnerability. Too often clergy are supposed to have that stiff upper lip and pretend that everything is ok. That is one of the reasons that only 1 in 10 pastors stay in the business long enough to retire from it. The clergy depression rate is astounding. I fully support Wesley and appreciate his bringing this to light.
One of my clergy friends posted this article and another clergy friend wondered if this was a unique problem to clergy or whether other professions have the same problem. I know this is also the case with the pharmacy industry. I could go on and on about what is happening in that industry but that’s not the point. The point is that my friend’s point got me thinking: sabbath is a privilege.
We agree that the idea of sabbath is a good one. God even mandated it in the 10 commandments. But let’s be real. Revered Wesley is taking a sabbatical because he can afford to. I am not arguing whether he deserves it, because 11 straight years of pastoring a church that welcomes roughly 4,500 people a week is unfathomable to me, he definitely deserves it. I am arguing that he is only doing so because he can afford it. And not just him. I know several senior pastors who have done the same. And they all do it because they can afford it. Large churches can afford to pay the pastor their regular salary and pay those who will be filling in. Many churches cannot afford this. And this is going to be an important conversation as more and more churches are unable to pay pastors and pastors move to being bi-vocational. Speaking from the experience of being a part time church worker, many churches are not prepared to deal with this.
At the last church I worked for, I was asked to go on a mission trip. I was salaried to work 25 hours a week. I inquired to my boss how this was going to work. Do I get overtime? What do I do about my lost wages at my other job? Because that too was a part time job and no work = no pay. Funny how not too long after that, I was invited to no longer work there. And I never did get a clear answer on how much time I get off. But they aren’t atypical. Many churches don’t have clear policies for part time employees. But even with crystal clear policies, church support staff are often overlooked when it comes to vacations and sabbaticals. I know at least one person will argue that folks get vacations. But a vacation is not a sabbath or sabbatical. When you have family, especially little kids, vacations are spent going to theme parks, visiting relatives, seeing things. It is not a dedicated week to renewal, finding inner peace, or professional development.
This is not a complaint against any church I worked for or currently work for. This is a plea for church leaders to take in account that they are not the only tired ones. And to acknowledge that sabbath and sabbatical are privilege. Once we acknowledge this, we can have honest conversations about changing this. Because we all deserve a real and true break.
Saturday, December 14, 2019
Friday, November 29, 2019
Reclaiming Hope
When I left my job at Trinity I hastily packed all of my things up in whatever box or bag I could find. Those boxes and bags sat in my home office and eventually made the move to the new house. Slowly I have begun to put things away and sort through the stuff. This past week I ran across the mug that sat in my office and was my “go to” mug for coffee. It is like the perfect mug. Perfect size, a little extra room to allow for proper amounts of milk or cream but sturdy and good. It’s a brown mug with a pink inside. On the mug, scrawled in pink is a butterfly and the word “hope”. Admittedly, when I saw the mug I took a sharp breath in. Not being at Trinity and the way all of it unfolded is still a fresh wound. I considered giving the mug to charity. Maybe someone could love it as much as I did. Maybe I could just pack it away again. I took a deep breath and knew what I had to do. I washed that mug and it’s now my at home “go to” mug.
This mug is more than a mug. Well, I mean it is a mug. I actually bought it from Cokesbury (RIP) on clearance. But the mug represents so much more to me. You see, I decided that no one gets to make me hide my hope. No one gets to make me donate my hope to a thrift store. No one gets me to put my hope down, that is of course, unless I let them. Of course this whole incident has made me think about the first week of advent. Hope. That four letter word. Hope is at the heart of advent, really. When we are little we hope for the latest and greatest toy. Some adults still spend advent hoping for the latest and greatest toy. Even the first Christmas (which did not take place in the winter) was chock full of hope. As one of my favorite Christmas songs says “a thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices”. Hope is thrilling. And rightfully so. Have you looked around lately? Have you read any news lately? The weary world, indeed! As Mary sings in the Magnificat, we have hope that one day all of the systems of oppression will be dismantled. That the lowly will be raised up and the rich will be sent away empty. A child will lead us. We have this hope because of a baby born in a stable (but not in December).
It’s easy to get discouraged. Again, have you read the news lately? So hold on to hope in your heart. And I will continue to hold hope in my heart and in my hand. And drink some coffee from it. Advent is upon us, the season of waiting and hoping. May you hope boldly. Don’t give it away to the thrift store and don’t pack it away. Keep it on display. That, my friends, is what a weary world needs right now.
Monday, August 5, 2019
Starting Over
This past weekend my phone died. You would think my falling into the Potomac River with it in my pocket would have a lot to do with it and while I am sure it didn't help it any, I don't think it did much harm. See, there had been warning signs in the weeks leading up to the disaster. I noticed that when I would be on the phone without my headphones in, I couldn't hear the other person. For a while there I thought I was losing my hearing until I had another person take my phone and they took mine. The volume was all the way up, too. So then I fell into the river. Well, I should say, a canoe capsized and I threw my phone up on the dock to a coworker I thought for sure it was fried.
For those of you who know me, you know that one of my deepest fears is not being able to get in contact with people, specifically my family. It's not really about having a technology dependency, it is literally the idea of people not being able to get in touch with me or me be able to get in touch with them is a debilitating fear for me. It is the reason I bought my entire family cell phones. When my family was going through financial problems and the house phone was disconnected I got them cell phones because I could not bear the idea of not getting in touch with them. Yea, I know, I should probably work that out with a therapist. But back to the matter at hand...
So I had to wait until my coworkers came back in order to get my phone which was not fried. It worked just fine. I was elated. I took it home, plugged it in, tried to play music to sleep to, and the sound wouldn't work. It said there were headphones plugged in. Now the previous issue made more sense. Fine. I can sleep without music but I sure do sleep better with it. I was concerned the alarm wouldn't go off so I tested it and it would so I went to sleep. Somewhere around 3am I get up and I see it's at like 92%. I figure the charger fell out, no big deal. When I wake up again for real I realize it still hadn't fully charged. So I try another charger. Nothing. I try another charger. Nothing. I text my family to let them know what happened, I go to work, and between services I go to the Verizon store. The super nice sales rep confirmed that my phone was toast. He was hoping I had everything backed up. I didn't. But the truth is, my phone wasn't healthy. Not only did it have that sound problem, it was also overheating a lot. Apparently that is also a warning sign of near death. I ignored the warning signs. After all, my trusty phone and I had been through a lot and it was still functional. Until it wasn't. We tried to get it backed up before it died but it was futile. I started with like 39% and it died before we could get it backed up. The most recent backup was 2017. If I am ever able to get the phone to charge I can back it up, wipe the new phone clean, and have all my stuff back. So we turn on the new phone. I open the pictures and there are all my photos! Even ones from being on the boat. And then, inexplicably, they disappeared. Poof. Gone. Even my photos from 2017 and before were gone. All of my photos of Doofus the dog were gone. He hasn't even been gone a month and all of my photos of him are gone. Yes, I uploaded a lot to Facebook and Instagram but literally in the blink of an eye, everything was gone and there is nothing I can do about it. I literally had to set it aside and focus on the now. Because I had another church service to get through. And I did. Then I went home and tried to process everything. And that is where the idea for this blog post came from.
Because the reality is that even though this is a true story, it is hauntingly similar to the events that led to my no longer being with the Methodist church. I had to start all over again. But having my phone die a horrible death and leaving my dream job are not the only times I have had to start over. There was also the house fire where my family had to start all over again. I am sure if I sat here long enough I can think of many more times that I have had to start over again. And I can almost promise you that all of those instances have the same thing in common: I did not choose them and I hated them. Starting over is the actual worst.
I think we get this false sense of... whatever... that we get a clean slate. No. The slate is never clean. Even before we are born. Because we are born into someone else's narrative. And with every "new beginning" we carry our baggage and bias. It doesn't even have to be bad stuff. It can be good stuff. Like "hey, the church I worked for bad a blessing of the backpacks and it went over well. I think we should try it here". Ok, obviously I phrased it a little differently but the Blessing of the Backpacks will be the last week of August. Tell your friends. But we do. We carry our past failures and successes with us. But we have no choice. Life brings us to new beginnings whether we ever ask or not. Because trust me, I would ask for a new beginning never.
I am keenly aware that you grow through new beginnings, that not much grows on a mountain top, more things grow in valleys, God is with us, God already knows the ending, God completely erases our sin, we have friends to help us through the tough times, etc but it doesn't make our grief any less real. It doesn't make that period of mourning any more comfortable.
I am reminded of some advice I gave a friend a few years ago. I love yoga. Every time I get in a new pose, it usually hurts the first time. It's a stretch. Literally. And inevitably the yoga instructor says "relax into the pose". That means the more you are in that position, especially when focusing on your breathing, it becomes more comfortable. And that's what life is. A series of new poses and stretching. I cannot tell you how many times my words to that friend have come back to bite me. Because I know they are true. But it doesn't mean I have to like it, especially at first. So my new job and I are getting to know each other better, I am figuring out this way too fancy phone, and I will be moving yet again. I am focusing on my breathing and relaxing into the pose. So here's to new beginnings, if I have to. I guess.
Carrie_On.
For those of you who know me, you know that one of my deepest fears is not being able to get in contact with people, specifically my family. It's not really about having a technology dependency, it is literally the idea of people not being able to get in touch with me or me be able to get in touch with them is a debilitating fear for me. It is the reason I bought my entire family cell phones. When my family was going through financial problems and the house phone was disconnected I got them cell phones because I could not bear the idea of not getting in touch with them. Yea, I know, I should probably work that out with a therapist. But back to the matter at hand...
So I had to wait until my coworkers came back in order to get my phone which was not fried. It worked just fine. I was elated. I took it home, plugged it in, tried to play music to sleep to, and the sound wouldn't work. It said there were headphones plugged in. Now the previous issue made more sense. Fine. I can sleep without music but I sure do sleep better with it. I was concerned the alarm wouldn't go off so I tested it and it would so I went to sleep. Somewhere around 3am I get up and I see it's at like 92%. I figure the charger fell out, no big deal. When I wake up again for real I realize it still hadn't fully charged. So I try another charger. Nothing. I try another charger. Nothing. I text my family to let them know what happened, I go to work, and between services I go to the Verizon store. The super nice sales rep confirmed that my phone was toast. He was hoping I had everything backed up. I didn't. But the truth is, my phone wasn't healthy. Not only did it have that sound problem, it was also overheating a lot. Apparently that is also a warning sign of near death. I ignored the warning signs. After all, my trusty phone and I had been through a lot and it was still functional. Until it wasn't. We tried to get it backed up before it died but it was futile. I started with like 39% and it died before we could get it backed up. The most recent backup was 2017. If I am ever able to get the phone to charge I can back it up, wipe the new phone clean, and have all my stuff back. So we turn on the new phone. I open the pictures and there are all my photos! Even ones from being on the boat. And then, inexplicably, they disappeared. Poof. Gone. Even my photos from 2017 and before were gone. All of my photos of Doofus the dog were gone. He hasn't even been gone a month and all of my photos of him are gone. Yes, I uploaded a lot to Facebook and Instagram but literally in the blink of an eye, everything was gone and there is nothing I can do about it. I literally had to set it aside and focus on the now. Because I had another church service to get through. And I did. Then I went home and tried to process everything. And that is where the idea for this blog post came from.
Because the reality is that even though this is a true story, it is hauntingly similar to the events that led to my no longer being with the Methodist church. I had to start all over again. But having my phone die a horrible death and leaving my dream job are not the only times I have had to start over. There was also the house fire where my family had to start all over again. I am sure if I sat here long enough I can think of many more times that I have had to start over again. And I can almost promise you that all of those instances have the same thing in common: I did not choose them and I hated them. Starting over is the actual worst.
I think we get this false sense of... whatever... that we get a clean slate. No. The slate is never clean. Even before we are born. Because we are born into someone else's narrative. And with every "new beginning" we carry our baggage and bias. It doesn't even have to be bad stuff. It can be good stuff. Like "hey, the church I worked for bad a blessing of the backpacks and it went over well. I think we should try it here". Ok, obviously I phrased it a little differently but the Blessing of the Backpacks will be the last week of August. Tell your friends. But we do. We carry our past failures and successes with us. But we have no choice. Life brings us to new beginnings whether we ever ask or not. Because trust me, I would ask for a new beginning never.
I am keenly aware that you grow through new beginnings, that not much grows on a mountain top, more things grow in valleys, God is with us, God already knows the ending, God completely erases our sin, we have friends to help us through the tough times, etc but it doesn't make our grief any less real. It doesn't make that period of mourning any more comfortable.
I am reminded of some advice I gave a friend a few years ago. I love yoga. Every time I get in a new pose, it usually hurts the first time. It's a stretch. Literally. And inevitably the yoga instructor says "relax into the pose". That means the more you are in that position, especially when focusing on your breathing, it becomes more comfortable. And that's what life is. A series of new poses and stretching. I cannot tell you how many times my words to that friend have come back to bite me. Because I know they are true. But it doesn't mean I have to like it, especially at first. So my new job and I are getting to know each other better, I am figuring out this way too fancy phone, and I will be moving yet again. I am focusing on my breathing and relaxing into the pose. So here's to new beginnings, if I have to. I guess.
Carrie_On.
Wednesday, February 27, 2019
Nothing: A GC Wrap Up
Before we get started, let me state that these are my feelings and my attempt to begin to process what has happened. They may not be the views of others nor are they endorsed by any church in particular, especially if I use "bad words". :)
(Also, this ends up being a little more rant-y and less "well organized thoughts and feelings" so I apologize for that).
I titled this entry "Nothing" for several reasons. First, I have so much to say but then again I have nothing to say. I am hurt. I am angry. I am tired.
I bought the idea that love wins. I bought the idea that the "good guy" always wins. Ok, I mean I know I am being a little hyperbolic here but I have to admit I thought General Conference would have a different outcome. I know the story is not over. It is so fitting that we are heading into the season of Lent where death tries to have the last word but God vanquishes death. But we have the benefit of being able to flip the page to the victory part. There has never been a time in our lives where we actually question whether Christ is going to rise on the 3rd day. We can be as somber as we want during Holy Week but we have the assurance that come Easter, we will hear the Good News. That is the essence of the gospel. The disciples didn't have that luxury. They couldn't fast forward through the yucky parts. They literally heard Jesus say he was going to rise and they still didn't believe it because they couldn't see it. And right now, I admit, I can't see it. I can't see the empty tomb. All I can see is death.
Now I am sure at least one of you reading this is thinking "omg but the United Methodist Church is not God". Fair point. Something about "kings and kingdoms will all pass away..." And you are right. There are other churches. There are other denominations. But they don't suit me. Yes, I was born into a Methodist Church and currently work for a Methodist Church and I got my Master of Divinity from a Methodist Seminary but I have looked at other options. I can't be Presbyterian or Baptist any more than I could magically make myself Miss America. That is not a dig at our brothers and sisters of other denominations, they just aren't where I connected. Methodism is my home. So to my friends saying "[my denomination] will welcome you with open arms! Come on over!", please save it. The wounds are too new. Maybe some of us will change but not right now I will not.
It is a bitter pill to swallow for me personally because of the current political climate. This may come as a shock to some but I am not a Democrat. I am a Republican. Donald Trump and those trying to run with him are not Republicans. The political party I belong to has been overrun by those who seek to divide, exclude, and judge. And that is how I feel about the denomination I love. I know drawing those parallels could be seen as incendiary but hear me out. I am not calling all Republicans, all Trump supporters, or everyone who voted for the Traditional Plan anything. It is that their views don't align with mine and until recently I thought they didn't align with most people's views. I feel homeless politically and in my faith. And that is hard to accept.
I am sad to see the number of people who today asked for their name to be removed from various UMC membership rosters. But I don't blame them. How can we ask abuse victims to stay with their perpetrators? So many wonderful people have left or are leaving. Again, I don't blame them. But I will continue to fight. I will fight because I am called to pastoral ministry and I want to be colleagues with the best speakers, writers, interpreters, and theologians out there and I'll be damned if believe that someone is or isn't equipped for ministry based on their sexuality.
For whatever reason, we seem to have an unhealthy obsession with human sexuality. The WCA (conservative "Methodist" group) allows women and divorced people to be in their group; two topics of which Jesus had more to say about than homosexuality. The hypocrisy is overwhelming.
I will also continue to fight because I believe there is room at God's table for all people. Full stop. There is room for me, you, our LGBTQ+ friends, those that voted for the Traditional Plan, airplane clappers, those that talk in theater, and those that are bad tippers. We do not limit the table. Why? Because we believe in grace in all of its forms. When we do communion, we acknowledge that the table is open for ALL, not just heterosexuals. How dare we serve as God's gate-keepers? I think God has that part under control. God did it for millennia without us, God doesn't need our help in that starting now. We are not God. Much like John the Baptist, we are not God. We simply point others to God.
As I sit at my desk and write, Jason Mraz comes on the radio and I hear these words:
For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, 39nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord
And that is truly the Good News. I don't know all of what is going to happen in light of all the things that happened at General Conference but we have the assurance that nothing will separate us from God.
(Also, this ends up being a little more rant-y and less "well organized thoughts and feelings" so I apologize for that).
I titled this entry "Nothing" for several reasons. First, I have so much to say but then again I have nothing to say. I am hurt. I am angry. I am tired.
I bought the idea that love wins. I bought the idea that the "good guy" always wins. Ok, I mean I know I am being a little hyperbolic here but I have to admit I thought General Conference would have a different outcome. I know the story is not over. It is so fitting that we are heading into the season of Lent where death tries to have the last word but God vanquishes death. But we have the benefit of being able to flip the page to the victory part. There has never been a time in our lives where we actually question whether Christ is going to rise on the 3rd day. We can be as somber as we want during Holy Week but we have the assurance that come Easter, we will hear the Good News. That is the essence of the gospel. The disciples didn't have that luxury. They couldn't fast forward through the yucky parts. They literally heard Jesus say he was going to rise and they still didn't believe it because they couldn't see it. And right now, I admit, I can't see it. I can't see the empty tomb. All I can see is death.
Now I am sure at least one of you reading this is thinking "omg but the United Methodist Church is not God". Fair point. Something about "kings and kingdoms will all pass away..." And you are right. There are other churches. There are other denominations. But they don't suit me. Yes, I was born into a Methodist Church and currently work for a Methodist Church and I got my Master of Divinity from a Methodist Seminary but I have looked at other options. I can't be Presbyterian or Baptist any more than I could magically make myself Miss America. That is not a dig at our brothers and sisters of other denominations, they just aren't where I connected. Methodism is my home. So to my friends saying "[my denomination] will welcome you with open arms! Come on over!", please save it. The wounds are too new. Maybe some of us will change but not right now I will not.
It is a bitter pill to swallow for me personally because of the current political climate. This may come as a shock to some but I am not a Democrat. I am a Republican. Donald Trump and those trying to run with him are not Republicans. The political party I belong to has been overrun by those who seek to divide, exclude, and judge. And that is how I feel about the denomination I love. I know drawing those parallels could be seen as incendiary but hear me out. I am not calling all Republicans, all Trump supporters, or everyone who voted for the Traditional Plan anything. It is that their views don't align with mine and until recently I thought they didn't align with most people's views. I feel homeless politically and in my faith. And that is hard to accept.
I am sad to see the number of people who today asked for their name to be removed from various UMC membership rosters. But I don't blame them. How can we ask abuse victims to stay with their perpetrators? So many wonderful people have left or are leaving. Again, I don't blame them. But I will continue to fight. I will fight because I am called to pastoral ministry and I want to be colleagues with the best speakers, writers, interpreters, and theologians out there and I'll be damned if believe that someone is or isn't equipped for ministry based on their sexuality.
For whatever reason, we seem to have an unhealthy obsession with human sexuality. The WCA (conservative "Methodist" group) allows women and divorced people to be in their group; two topics of which Jesus had more to say about than homosexuality. The hypocrisy is overwhelming.
I will also continue to fight because I believe there is room at God's table for all people. Full stop. There is room for me, you, our LGBTQ+ friends, those that voted for the Traditional Plan, airplane clappers, those that talk in theater, and those that are bad tippers. We do not limit the table. Why? Because we believe in grace in all of its forms. When we do communion, we acknowledge that the table is open for ALL, not just heterosexuals. How dare we serve as God's gate-keepers? I think God has that part under control. God did it for millennia without us, God doesn't need our help in that starting now. We are not God. Much like John the Baptist, we are not God. We simply point others to God.
As I sit at my desk and write, Jason Mraz comes on the radio and I hear these words:
We all make mistakes, no, we're not perfect yet
Maybe God made us all from an accident
And the question that sits on everyone's lips
Is why should we pick ourselves up and start over again
Maybe God made us all from an accident
And the question that sits on everyone's lips
Is why should we pick ourselves up and start over again
There's only one answer that matters
Even if your heart has been shattered
Whatever you want, whatever you are after
Love is still the answer
Love is still the answer
And all the while I have been reflecting on Romans 8:38-39Even if your heart has been shattered
Whatever you want, whatever you are after
Love is still the answer
Love is still the answer
For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, 39nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord
And that is truly the Good News. I don't know all of what is going to happen in light of all the things that happened at General Conference but we have the assurance that nothing will separate us from God.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)