Weather Woes

The sun is shining, and I hardly recognize it.

During the month of June, we got measurable rain 21 of 30 days. Portland had 8.56 inches. According to the weather service, the normal June rainfall is 3.28 inches. So far, July isn't looking so good either. Everyone and everything is soggy.

On Friday, during a brief break in the rain, Sara, Rachel, and I went strawberry picking -- something we like to do every June. It was so sad to walk up and down the rows of strawberry plants, seeing soggy, rotting, and molding berries lying on the ground everywhere. We did manage to pick quite a few, despite the challenging conditions, but there's no question: this year's crop is suffering.

Yesterday we spent the Fourth of July at the rustic camp on Center Pond that's been a center of family summer fun since my grandparents bought it when my Mom was a teenager. It rained the entire time. Once in a while, there would be a little teaser -- a brief glimpse of lighter gray on the horizon, and someone would say, "I think it's starting to break across the lake" -- just in time for the next wave of torrential rain. My brother and sister and I used to spend lots and lots of time at Camp when we were growing up, including the Fourth of July most years. I don't ever remember a Fourth quite as bleak as this one.

And yes, it looks like still more rain in the forecast for the week ahead, with maybe, just maybe, a change in weather patterns for the end of the week.

For most of us, it's just a nuisance or maybe a minor inconvenience. It seems important to pray, though, people for whom too much rain can mean floods and great loss, for farmers who are finding their crops are rotting in the fields, and for all who depend on outside work for their livelihood.

Meanwhile, let's pray also for those who are in places of drought, whose lives are equally impacted.

If it's okay with you, I think while I'm offering this prayer, I'm going to head back outside, while there's still a glimpse of blue and that bright round orb is still up in the sky.

Why I enjoy Annual Conference

• reconnecting with old friends, spending quality time with some of the people whose company I enjoy most, and meeting new people
• celebrating some of the transformative ministries that make New England such a cool place to serve
• growing through learning experiences, like this year's inspiring teaching by Adam Hamilton
• enjoying worship I don't have to lead
• checking out all the titles at Cokesbury... and resisting the temptation to overspend
• being part of the celebration as new pastors are commissioned and ordained
• getting my fuel tank refilled and remembering why I do what I do
• sleeping in a really uncomfortable dorm room bed and eating overcooked cafeteria food (not so much)
• seeing what crazy cross-dressing thing John Blackadar is going to do next

How about you?

Happy Mother's Day!

On this Mother's Day, I can truly say that two of the greatest blessings in my life are these two people pictured above: my wife, Sara, who is a fantastic mother; and our daughter, Rachel.

We took this photo last week at a park in our neighborhood. Next year when the tulips are in bloom, there will be an additional person in the family photo: the little one whose cells are multiplying every day in Sara's womb, who will make his or her appearance this fall, when the grass is more brown than green and the tulips have been replaced by pumpkins and cornstalks.

Today I'm giving thanks to God for the gift of mothers!

Rethink Church

Heartbeat

Sara is now in her 15th week of this pregnancy, and it's starting to hit me, in little waves, that we're bringing another human being into the world. Not only that, but this human being is going to live with us... be part of our family... require frequent diaper changes... wake us up somewhat regularly in the middle of the night... and eventually require food and clothing and another car seat and my time and attention.

Whenever this hits me, I find myself asking the rather somber question, "Am I ready for this?" Last time around I was blissfully ignorant about all the ways parenthood would change my world. This time I know enough to be scared.

I also know we will be incredibly blessed, and despite the waves of panic when I think about the fact that we're about to double the number of children under our roof, mostly I'm excited.

One thing will be very different this time around: we're doing a home birth. Yes, that's right: this baby is going to be born in this very house where we live. When Sara first suggested the idea, I had a little panic attack on the spot. "You want to do what?" I asked, eyes wide, mind racing. In retrospect, I can see that was a silly reaction, especially since my fears had little to do with the big things, like whether a home birth would put Sara or the baby in danger. I've learned, thanks to Sara's coaching, that birth is really not so much a medical event as it is a natural human event, and that only in the past 50 years or so -- the blink of an eye in the scope of human history -- and only in the most industrialized countries, has childbirth been medicalized, resulting in huge increases in the numbers of interventions. That knowledge, plus the awareness that we live literally within two miles of two outstanding hospitals, made me almost immediately comfortable with the medical concerns. Mostly, though, my fear had to do with the much larger questions like, Who's going to answer the phone when it rings? Will I be able to separate myself from the dirty dishes in the sink? Where will we get food if there's no cafeteria? And who's going to wash the sheets when this is all said and done?

Once I got past those big questions, the idea of a home birth is a pretty special thing, especially since Sara is feeling 100% confident that this is the right thing for her. And really, she's doing all the work... The least I can do is be supportive.

So today, Robin, one of the two midwives with whom we're sharing this journey, came for our third or fourth visit. After all the questions and the pee-in-a-cup thing and the blood pressure check, we got to hear the baby's heartbeat. It was strong and loud -- 150 beats per minute -- healthy. Wow.

This baby is really coming.

A Reconciling Conversation

On Sunday following worship with the congregation of Chestnut UMC, we're gathering for a "Reconciling Conversation" -- the first step in a process as we consider a proposal to join the Reconciling Ministries Network and declare ourselves a fully inclusive church, particularly in welcoming the gay and lesbian community.

This process was initiated by a conversation at a visioning gathering that we held last month. At that time, with unanimous approval and enthusiastic support from everyone in the room, one of the goals we set was to pursue becoming a Reconciling Congregation. I'm looking forward to this first conversation with a widened circle, and whatever the outcome, I'm praying the process will be prayerful, respectful, and Spirit-led.

A couple of weeks ago, Sara and I had an opportunity to participate in an event at Portland High School sponsored by a student group called the Gay-Straight Alliance, affiliated with the Gay, Lesbian, and Straight Education Network. The event, called "Claiming our Sexuality and our Spirituality," brought together students, adults, and leaders of faith communities for sacred conversation. Bishop Gene Robinson of New Hampshire (a truly amazing person!) was the keynote speaker, and then each of us spoke briefly about our faith traditions, extending a welcome to the students in the room, whatever their sexual identities. Then students were invited to circulate among the room to talk, ask questions, and make connections. Sara and I felt honored to be there. (See Sara's post, "A Sacred Night.")

When the advisor for the sponsoring group called, she said, "The most commonly asked question when I'm alone with a student is, 'Does God hate me?'" She said, "It breaks my heart every time I hear a student ask that."

I think it breaks God's heart, too.

So please, dear readers, join me if you will, in praying for the church -- the church I serve in particular as we engage in this process, if you'd like, but more specifically for the church universal, that we might more faithfully communicate the all-embracing, all-inclusive, full-of-grace and longing-for-relationship, reconciling love of God to those who feel like God must hate them because of who they are. They are everywhere, and they are beloved children of God, our brothers and sisters.

When will it all melt?

I like snow as much as anyone, but it's March, and there is something wrong with this picture...

The crown of thorns in the manger

In preparation for worship during this Season of Lent, we recently ordered a crown of thorns to be used as part of our worship space.

Last week, upon returning home after picking Rachel up from daycare, we found a box at the door, and sure enough, it was straight from Holy Land Imports.

At two-and-a-half going on three, Rachel is super excited whenever there's a package at the door, and it's hard for her two-and-a-half-year-old brain to comprehend that it could be a package addressed to someone other than her. So I explained, "No, this isn't a package from Nana and Papa or Grammy Jeanne and Grampa Bud. This is a package for Mommy and Daddy." Well, of course, she wanted to see what was inside, so I continued, "This is something very special," and with that, I pried open the box to reveal its contents.

"This is a crown of thorns," I explained. "Jesus wore one of these on his head when he was on the cross." Okay, this is way too much, I'm thinking, but how do I explain this? By now she's grabbing at it, because it is, after all, a package that arrived at our door, and packages contain treasures to be enjoyed. "It's very, very sharp," I said, and I had her touch one of the thorns, gently, with her little finger so she'd understand. "You have to be very careful when touching this."

"Jesus wore it?" she asked, understandably puzzled. And then, imagination running, putting it all together in her mind, she continued, in her little sing-songy two-and-a-half-year-old voice, "Now I go put it in the manger, and Baby Jesus will be there, and Mary will be there, and Joseph will be there..."

It makes me think about how often we parcel these stories out, keeping them separate, protected from one another. Anyone knows Baby Jesus, with his beautifully laundered swaddling clothes, his disinfected manger, and his mother Mary dressed in light blue, belong to Christmas, where the star shines bright and the angels sing good news. The crown of thorns, though... the cross... the angry crowds... the darkness... well, these belong to Good Friday. Let's not be confused.

Maybe, just maybe, Rachel is starting to understand a connection we'd rather ignore: Birth, life, witness, pain, death, resurrection -- one great story, one Jesus Christ, one life, one Savior, the foundations of one faith.

A crown of thorns in the manger, Baby Jesus, Mary, Joseph, and all -- not a bad idea.

Inward or outward?

If you want to see me get all worked up, talk to me about how we in the church need to take care of ourselves before we can begin to look outward.

This happened recently, at a meeting of interfaith leaders in the area. I facilitate this group which gathers monthly, along with leaders from some social service agencies, to talk about ways to build community and strengthen families. We were brainstorming possible community outreach projects which might present opportunities for collaboration among faith communities -- things like occasional neighborhood dinners to which we'd invite our neighbors -- and one of my colleagues spoke up. I'm sure he had no idea he was about to push one of my buttons:

"You know, we have to take care of ourselves before we can begin to look to the needs of others," he said. "We're a very busy church with a lot going on. We've got to take care of our own needs first."

Oh man. I wanted to jump across the table. My first thought: Does this guy read the same Gospels I read? Are we following the same Jesus? Something here does not compute.

I spoke up, more with passion than with substance, letting him know that I totally disagreed with what he'd just said. I think it surprised him.

But really, isn't this why so many of our churches are struggling, or worse, on the edge of closing their doors -- because we've lost our bearings -- because we've become little more than social clubs whose primary purpose is institutional maintenance? What's up with this logic? Does anybody really believe that somehow, when we've taken care of all of our own needs, when the institution is finally running like a well-oiled machine, when we've focused inwardly long enough, that then we'll magically have the resources of time and money and skills to begin looking outward to care for needs beyond the walls of our church? Does anybody really believe this?

Before we moved to Portland, I served a church that had bounced back in a pretty dramatic way from a place of dismal decline. Once strong, over the course of decades the church had declined, not unlike thousands of other mainline Protestant churches in cities and towns across the U.S. Worship attendance was such that they'd move out of the sanctuary in the winter, into a small adjacent meeting room because (a) they couldn't afford to heat the big, beautiful sanctuary; and (b) they were small enough that they could. Their focus was inward. Morale was low. They wondered how long they'd survive.

But then over the course of ten or fifteen years, this congregation experienced dramatic change. Worship attendance began to grow... and grow... and grow... from a low of 40-something, I'm told, to something close to 300 fifteen years later. The church came alive with children, youth, and adults of all ages. A growing spiritual vitality manifested itself in diverse programs of mission and ministry that enlivened the church and impacted the community in profound ways. By all accounts, this church had experienced revitalization -- new life!

I remember being in a meeting where the pastor from another church was asking questions, trying to understand the factors that had led to such dramatic change. One of the church leaders whom I respected tremendously -- someone who'd grown up in the church and experienced the changes firsthand -- described it this way: "We used to be a church that looked inward. We were most concerned that the bills were paid, and when money was tight, we worked harder to balance the budget. All of our efforts went into trying to keep this church afloat." (How many churches could describe themselves this way?) "But then one day, a newcomer to the church stood up during the sharing of joys and concerns, and through tears, she shared her struggle. She had a parent back in Brazil who was dying, and she was desperate to make it home to see this parent before it was too late. It was hard for her to ask, but she wondered if there was anyone who might be able to help her financially."

This church leader described that as the pivotal moment. Presented with a challenge, they began to understand that they could help a sister in need. The tearful concern of an immigrant in their midst grabbed their hearts and took precedent over a balanced church budget. They began to work together to meet the need of the newcomer, and this need became their rallying cry. When they were able to raise enough funds to send this person to Brazil to see a dying parent, they realized God could use them for powerful things.

"Our focus changed, from inward to outward," said this church leader, "and that made all the difference. It was the beginning of a totally different focus for this church, and once we began looking outward, we've never stopped."

By now, of course, very few in the congregation could even remember this event, because the congregation had grown so dramatically. Certainly there were many factors that led to this church's revitalization, but the point was clear: When the focus is outward, some of the inward things begin to take care of themselves.

No church at that address...

Two months after my last post, I'm going to try my best to dig this thing out of the annals of inactive blogs...

Wow, so much has happened -- I can't possibly reflect on all that's happened -- but suffice it to say that this is an exciting season. We are closing in on the final pieces of the renovations to the new facility we purchased last fall. As of this coming Sunday, March 1st, we'll be celebrating worship in our new space at 185 High Street -- a space we've named Hope.Gate.Way.

It's a little 2,800 square foot facility which we've renovated so there's a good-sized room for worship and other larger gatherings, an office, a small open gathering space, two kids' rooms, a kitchen, and two bathrooms. As one of the units on the ground level of a parking garage, surrounded by an architect's office, some Maine Medical Center patient billing offices, and a recording studio, it looks nothing like a traditional church -- which we think may well be more an asset than a deficit. It has four large banks of windows overlooking High Street -- a street with lots of foot and car traffic -- giving it high visibility. And it's adjacent to Parkside neighborhood, the most densely populated square mile in Northern New England -- a neighborhood with many, many opportunities to be in mission and ministry. We are so excited about this new facility... excited about the renovations that are nearly complete, which are transforming the facility into a beautiful, inviting space... excited about partnerships we've begun to develop with neighboring churches and community organizations, which are already bearing fruit... excited about the vision for ministry that's emerging as we prepare to move into the neighborhood.

So today I got a call on the church cell phone -- an out-of-state number I didn't recognize. "Um, hello?" the voice on the other end began, tentatively. "What city are you in?"

"Portland, Maine," I said.

"Okay... [long pause] ... Uhh, I have a driver trying to deliver a dishwasher, and I've got you listed for 185 High Street, but my driver says he just drove by that location and there's no church at that address."

No church at that address. Wrong.

I wanted to launch into, "The church is not a building, the church is not a steeple, the church is not a resting place, the church is a people..."

But I didn't. Instead I said something more like, "Okay, well tell your driver to go back, because while it definitely does not look like a traditional church, that is our space, and that is our dishwasher."

It's amazing to me how deeply held are these ideas about what a church might look like -- so deeply held that this driver, pulling up at 185 High Street (which does, by the way, have a very large sign in the window announcing, 'Coming soon: Chestnut United Methodist Church & New Light..."), wouldn't even get out of his delivery truck, open the door, and check to see if he had the right address. Nope, one quick glance and he drew the conclusion: no church at that address.

Makes me wonder: Where is the church, anyway, and what qualifies? I've visited lots of imposing church facilities with the requisite stained glass windows and a steeple visible for miles around, and after spending time within those doors, I'd be inclined to make the assessment, "No church at that address." And I've spent the last 18 months serving a church that meets every Sunday morning in borrowed space -- an aging synagogue, badly in need of a facelift, hard to find, without so much as a sign to mark its presence -- and another community of faith meeting around dining room tables and in living rooms in homes around the city -- and in both cases, I'm more than ready to make the assessment, "However odd the address, this is church."

It's clear to me: the Body of Christ cannot be contained within four walls, and defining the church has nothing to do with bricks and mortar, or stained glass, or steeples... but rather, everything to do with the Spirit at work among its people.

I can't wait to see all the ways "church" will manifest itself as we begin this new journey. My message to those who will gather on Sunday morning and Sunday evening: "Welcome to our new home for worship and ministry. Let’s make ourselves at home, but let’s not get too comfortable: this is a launching pad to send us out as disciples in mission and ministry to our city and the world."

Now that's church.

Christmas with family

Was it really 20 days ago when I last posted that little diatribe about the offensive holiday e-mails? What have I been doing with myself, except maybe getting ready for Christmas?

We're in the mountains of North Carolina -- Lake Junaluska, near Asheville, to be exact -- where Sara's parents and grandparents live, celebrating with an extended family time. (Yes, both the time and the family are extended.)

It's been a wonderful Christmas, for lots of reasons:

• We spent Christmas Eve with friends Shelley and Mike, who provided fantastic music to make our Christmas Eve worship celebration special. We celebrated twice: with an indoor service in a meeting room at Portland's historic Eastland Park Hotel, next to what will soon be our home for worship and ministry on High Street; and with an outdoor celebration in Congress Square, at the intersection of Congress & High Streets. It felt great to be able to worship in our new neighborhood. Following worship we went to Don & Sue's house for a magnificent Christmas Eve dinner. Before we knew it, it was after 10:00, which meant late to bed for Rachel, and even later for Sara and me as we wrapped gifts, packed for our trip, and finished a few last-minute preparations.



• We had a relaxing Christmas morning, made merry with the opening of gifts like a snuffed Snuffleupagus, a set of wooden blocks, a CD of Sesame Street music, and a tricycle which has been in our basement for some time, waiting for the perfect age. After breakfast with Shelley & Mike and good-byes, we headed out for the Manchester NH airport and on to North Carolina, by way of Detroit.
  


• We've been at Lake Junaluska, NC since Christmas night, celebrating with Sara's family. Sara's parents live here, and her sister Elizabeth and brother-in-law Greg are visiting with their 14-week old baby (our niece) Lydia. Sara's Turkington grandparents also live here, and every year the extended family comes for a Christmas celebration that lasts several days. This year there were 24 of us! We've enjoyed many wonderful meals, times of singing, giving and receiving gifts, attending worship together, going for walks around the lake, and catching up with each other. Now that most of the Turkingtons have left, Sara's Ewing grandparents and Aunt Nancy have arrived from Florida, and the celebration continues. We'll be leaving tomorrow, and then heading to Searsport, Maine where we'll celebrate Christmas with my extended family.
  

I'm so thankful for the hope of Christmas, for family, and for these times together.

It's hard to believe we're creeping up on 2009, but I guess we are. I'm looking forward to blogging more consistently in the new year.

Happy Holidays, anyone?

Here we are in the season leading to Christmas, which means my "In" box is getting clogged with junk like this:

THIS IS A CHRISTMAS TREE, NOTHING ELSE.

This is NOT a Holiday Tree.

This is a Christmas tree.

It is not a Hanukkah bush.

It is not an Allah plant.

It is not a Kawanza shrub.

It is not a Holiday hedge.

It is a Christmas tree.

Say it... CHRISTmas , CHRISTmas , CHRISTmas!!

Yes. CHRISTmas - celebrating The Birth of Jesus Christ!!!

If this offends you...too bad. Get over it ~ Take a stand and pass this on !!

Jesus is the reason for the season... Amen!!!!!

-------------------------

I have to be honest: I don’t see why this is a big deal. We live in a country where people practice many different faiths, and it seems to me that we can do this peacefully, openly, authentically, and with appreciation for one another.

Right now the established church Sara and I are serving meets in a synagogue. We meet there because when the congregation sold its historic facility three years ago, the Jewish congregation a few streets over reached out to them and said, “We would like to invite you to come and worship here in our space. We don’t use it on Sunday mornings, and it’s all yours.” They don’t charge us rent (although we send a gift several times a year to help cover the cost of utilities), and they have welcomed us with a hospitality that is truly extraordinary. They open their doors to us not only on Sunday mornings, but also when we need space for a special meeting or something else. We put a cross on our altar every Sunday morning (this does not offend them), and we walk in under a beautiful stained glass window depicting the Star of David. On Easter morning, we arrived at the synagogue to find bouquets of flowers, chocolate candy, and “Happy Easter” signs welcoming us – gifts from the Jewish congregation. In turn, we remember their special holy days with gifts and expressions of love. We also are careful to honor their space by not eating shellfish or pork, out of respect for their traditions. We have recently purchased a new facility, and when I told the leader of the Jewish congregation he said, “Please let us know when you’re having your last Sunday at Etz Chaim – we’d like to come and make your congregation a special breakfast.”

Would it offend me if my Jewish sisters and brothers from Etz Chaim Synagogue wanted to put up a tree in their home and call it a Hanukkah bush? Not one bit. If we’re honest, we have to acknowledge that Christians stole the tree (and many of our Christmas traditions, actually) from pagan origins. I also don’t think my Jewish friends would be offended if I wanted to light candles on a menorah in my home, if I did this respectfully. I think there's a richness because we can all celebrate holy days in the same season, and honor and respect each other’s traditions, even share them from time to time.

I may be in the minority, but it does not offend me when someone wishes me “Happy Holidays” instead of “Merry Christmas.” “Holiday” literally means “holy day,” so I think it’s great when someone can wish me a happy holy day, acknowledging that while people celebrate different holy days, this is a holy season. Isn't it arrogant and presumptuous for me to insist that someone who’s Jewish ought to wish me a Merry Christmas (although many from Etz Chaim have) when that is not their tradition? It’s not about being “politically correct” – it’s just about honoring and respecting one another in the spirit of love.

Let's face it: the greatest threat to a spiritually centered Christmas is not the way our borrowed symbols like the Christmas tree are appropriated by other faiths, and it's not the greetings the cashiers at Hannaford use when we finish our purchase. Our competition is not those who celebrate a spiritually centered Hanukkah or a tradition-rich Kwanza. But I'll stop short, because that's another post.

Discuss.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Wherever you are today, I hope your Thanksgiving is filled with the joys of family and friends, good food, meaningful conversation, plenty of laughter, and a little time to reflect on the blessings of life.

Happy Birthday, Sara!

Today I'm wishing my beautiful wife Sara a Happy 32nd Birthday!

I put together this slide show early this morning, but I didn't get a chance to post it, and then I got swept up in a busy day.

Now, after getting home from an evening meeting, Sara's putting Rachel to bed, and we'll enjoy a late dinner together. Tomorrow Sara leaves for a five-day trip to North Dakota to spend time with her sister and brother-in-law, Elizabeth and Greg, and their new baby Lydia. Rachel and I will have some Daddy time at home.

So... a little pictoral celebration of Sara's life, and mostly of our life together...

Who are we?

Tonight we gathered in our new property at 185 High Street with some folks from New Light and some folks from Chestnut United Methodist Church, for the first of two brainstorming sessions as we think about naming our new home for worship and ministry.

Here are the questions we explored:

Who

• Who are we?
• Whom do we serve?
• Whom are we currently reaching?
• Whom do we want to attract?

What

• What do we do?
• What is our ministry about?
• What are our goals (for ministry, for the new building)?
• What is important to us? (key words)
• What do we want people to know about this place?
• What do we want people to think about this place?
• What adjectives describe us?
• What do we envision will happen here?

Where

• Where will people come from? (how far? from what neighborhoods?)
• Where will people learn about us?

When

• When will we be ready to announce our purpose for being here?
• When will we be ready to open the doors to the outside world?
• When will the building be open and in use (Sundays only? all week? 24-hrs?)

Why

• Why do we need a building?
• Why will people come here?

How

• How are we perceived in the community?
• How do we want to be perceived?
• How will we know if we are successful in accomplishing our vision?

Some of these questions are particular to our particular situation, but it seems to me many of these are questions every church should ask itself from time to time. Wouldn't we have a clearer understanding of our own identity and purpose in the world, as well as a clearer sense of direction for the future, if we paused on a regular basis to ask ourselves these basic questions of who, what, where, when, why, and how?

No Parking

I hope you'll take a minute to read this article in today's Portland Press Herald, and then to respond in some way to support our sisters and brothers at St. Patrick Catholic Church.

I just sent an e-mail to Paul Brandes of Charter Realty & Development Corp. expressing my complete disgust with their recent actions, which I find to be outrageous and offensive.

Portland is a wonderful place to live, work, and do business precisely because this is a city where neighbors know how to be neighbors. From his desk in New York, perhaps Mr. Brandes is unaware of the far-reaching implications of decisions like the one described in this article. One thing, however, is clear: If this decision is any indication, it’s clear that Charter's business practices are reprehensible. Perhaps there are places where actions like this are tolerated. Not in Portland.

Whether you live in Portland or not, I hope you'll take a minute to express your thoughts to Mr. Brandes. Charter has shopping centers in 14 states. Let's let them know that this practice is simply unacceptable.

I am urging members of Chestnut UMC and New Light to respond by writing letters and e-mails, and by boycotting all businesses at Westgate Shopping Center until the chain link fence is removed and the “no parking” policy is revoked.

A new day...

Yesterday afternoon, Rachel surprised us by saying, "Barack Obama." It came from nowhere, in the midst of her playing, and it caught Sara and me by complete surprise. At two years old, surely she didn't have any sense of the enormous significance of that name, but it was a name she'd been hearing on the radio, as Sara and I eagerly listened to election news, and probably in the conversations we'd been having all day, too.

Still it surprised us to hear that name, "Barack Obama," in her little two-year-old voice, as clear and articulate as you or I might say it, there in the midst of doing the things two-year-olds do. She didn't look up at us or anything -- didn't look for a reaction or any feedback, as she often does when trying something new -- just went on with her business. It was as if she were practicing saying those new and unfamiliar words, recognizing somehow that they were significant. Sara and I looked at each other, wide-eyed and smiling.

And today we have a new president-elect: Barack Obama.

It fills me with joy to think that Barack Obama will be the first president Rachel will remember. She won't remember this day. She won't remember the ugly campaign. She won't remember today's headlines or the endless commentary about the significance of yesterday's decision. But she will remember something of President Obama. His face will be the last one in the long string of pictures of U.S. presidents high on the wall in her first grade classroom. His will be the face she colors when learning about presidents, and she might not use the "flesh" crayon that I used, but maybe a shade of brown.

It fills me with such hope and joy to know that Rachel will only know a world where someone like Barack Obama can get elected President of the United States. It is my prayer today that she'll know a world where diplomacy, not military action, is the first response; where health care is accessible to all who need it, not a commodity available only to a privileged few; where poverty and hunger are unacceptable, and efforts to change systems that perpetuate suffering are considered a priority; where women and persons of color can go wherever their aspirations take them; where those who are gay or lesbian are afforded the same rights and privileges that heterosexuals have long taken for granted.

I'm fully aware that we do not need another Messiah. We have one of those, and Jesus is the only one we need. Everyone else -- Barack Obama included -- is a human being, with strengths and weaknesses, capable of great things and prone to make mistakes. Still, this election gives me hope for a new direction for the United States of America, and new hope for peace and justice in the world. Today I'm offering a prayer of thanksgiving, and especially a prayer for healing and for unity.

God is Bigger Than the Boogie Man!

Rachel is infatuated at the moment with Veggie Tales. She has several of the old VHS tapes, which she loves to watch, and whenever we get in the car, she wants us to put in the Veggie Tales CD.

So, in honor of Halloween, Rachel's favorite Veggie Tales song (with big props to someone for this very creative home music video, courtesy of youtube):



You were lying in your bed
You were feeling kind of sleepy
But you couldn't close your eyes
because the room was getting creepy.

Larry:
Were those eyeballs in the closet?
Was that Godzilla in the hall?

Bob:
There was something big and hairy
casting shadows on the wall.

Now your heart is beating like a drum
Your skin is getting clammy.
There's a hundred tiny monsters
jumping right into your jammies!

Bob:
What are going to do?

Junior:
I'm going to call the police!

Bob:
No! You don't need to do anything!

Junior:
What? Why?

Bob:
Because... God is bigger than the boogie man
He's bigger than Godzilla, or the monsters on TV
Oh, God is bigger than the boogie man
and He's watching out for you and me.

Junior:
So, when I'm lying in my bed
and the furniture starts creeping
I'll just laugh and say, "Hey, cut that out!"
and get back to my sleeping'
Cause I know that God's the biggest
and He's watching all the while.
So, when I get scared I'll think of Him
and close my eyes and smile!

God is bigger than the boogie man
He's bigger than Godzilla, or the monsters on TV
Oh, God is bigger than the boogie man
and He's watching out for you and me.

Boxes of Remembrance

A little over a year ago, about three months into our ministry here in Portland, during a goal-setting gathering, the congregation of Chestnut United Methodist Church formed a Site Team for the purpose of participating in the Urban Mission Training Program, and especially to move forward with a process of discernment and planning for the future. After 12 months of praying, planning, researching, learning, hoping, dreaming, trusting, daring, discussing, disagreeing, finding consensus, and stepping out in faith, we have articulated a new vision for ministry that feels God-led; we've purchased a new home for worship and ministry; and we've begun ministry in the Parkside neighborhood of Portland, Maine.

Today we gathered for a little ritual, led by Priscilla Dreyman, to mark the ending of one phase of the journey and the beginning of another. On a piece of watercolor paper, each of us wrote about some of the things that stand out most about this journey we've shared. Then we did some painting with watercolors... first on strips of paper, which later we cut into smaller strips on which we wrote words of blessing for one another... and then on two square pieces of watercolor paper: the one on which we'd written our memories and another piece. When our paintings were dry, we folded them into beautiful little boxes, which we're calling Site Team boxes. Our memories are folded inside, not visible, but enclosed within the box. We had a time of sharing -- about what we'd written inside, about what we'd painted on the outside, about our experience together -- and then we passed around the little strips with the words of blessing, so each of us has a strip from each sister or brother on the team. The blessings will remain in the box, and the box will sit on my desk as a symbol of this journey.

I'm so thankful for this team of faithful folks: Priscilla, Sue, Geraldine, Tom, Pat, Shirley, Erica, Sara, and sometimes Jim. I'm thankful for all that we've experienced together... for the laughter we've shared... for the love is at the center of our community. I'm thankful for times of deep discernment and deep sharing. I'm thankful for the faith and trust with which we embarked on the journey -- faith and trust further confirmed by this experience. I'm thankful for this place where God has led us, and for the feelings of hope and joy and possibility with which we embrace the adventure that lies ahead. And I'm thankful for today's ritual, which gave us the space to remember, to give thanks, to mark an ending and lean forward to a new beginning.

The system is broken

I am privileged.

This morning, I picked up the phone, called my doctor's office, and made an appointment to see a doctor. I've been feeling icky for 4 or 5 days with a sore throat that's gotten progressively worse, a headache, alternating fever and chills -- all the good stuff. I suspected strep. Nothing major, in the grand scheme of things. I'll definitely live.

But that's not the point. The point is, I'm sick, so I picked up the phone, called my doctor's office, and made an appointment. At the designated time, I went to my doctor's office, paid my $15 co-pay, and got the care I needed.

At that moment, I found myself thinking about the 46 million people in this country who don't have that privilege.

46 million -- that's a lot of people. That's about 1 in 6. (About 10 million of them are children. Are we okay with that?) Statistics say these numbers are growing. Something is terribly, terribly wrong.

The United Methodist Social Principles say that "health care is a basic human right." I totally agree: not a privilege for some, but a basic human right for all. We decided a long time ago that every child deserves a free public education. When are we going to decide that every person deserves health care when they're sick?

One more question: Who in their right mind really believes that providing a $5,000 tax credit and then deregulating the health insurance system so we can all find our own health insurance is going to solve the problem? The sources I trust predict that scenario will quickly result in increasing numbers of uninsured.

Something is terribly, terribly wrong, and it's time to fix the problems. Whatever we do, let's not make them worse.