Faith Works 3-9-19

Faith Works 3-9-19

Jeff Gill

 

A godly stumblebum

___

 

 

Physical therapists have long enjoyed saying to patients that "Walking is controlled falling down." It's true.

 

In order to move forward, you basically have to throw yourself off-balance and catch yourself mid-fall with the opposite foot . . . again and again and again. A long stroll is a controlled fall, all across the landscape.

 

If you don't run the risk of ever being off-balance, you'll never make progress.

 

In somewhat the same way, I believe in Christianity because on the one hand (or foot) I believe it's true, and on the other hand, because it works.

 

Saying I think Christian faith is true might be a longer discussion for another day to some of you. I'll try to skip ahead just by explaining this belief in this way: my faith has reference to an objective reality that may be greater than my perceptions, but can in part be understood. Not perfectly, by me, but ultimately understandable, and valid in so far as I can understand it.

 

Or, I believe it is true.

 

And that I think it works? Well, I believe Christianity works in large part because I know I need grace. Forgiveness, if you will. Because I keep falling down.

 

There are some critics of my second argument who claim that guilt, personal and social varieties, comes from doctrines of sin that are creations of churches. Sin is a tool to keep people feeling guilty and anxious and putting money in the offering plate. An interesting argument.

 

Anthropologically, I think sin and guilt are a little bigger than the churchianity conspiracy proposed in that model. Psychologically, we're all still wrestling with Paul's statement "I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do . . . For I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out. For I do not do the good I want to do, but the evil I do not want to do, this I keep on doing." (Romans 7:15-20, NIV)

 

However you interpret it, I think it's a human universal that we struggle with our tendency to want to do wrong things. Wrong for us, wrong for others, wrong even if no one else ever knows we did it.

 

And that knowledge haunts us. Why am I this way, can I ever change, and even if I do, what or who can help me stay on that path and think it worth the effort even to try, let alone to fail? Which we will.

 

Working with addicts, I hear people say proudly "I've been clean twenty days!" And I hear others say skeptically "do you know how many times they've been clean twenty days?" And I know people in our community who have been clean twenty days twenty times, but have now been clean twenty years. When and how do you help people get back up? My default is to say "every time," because my imperfect knowledge of eternity and infinity also means I never know which time falling down is going to be the time they get up and do not fall again. I just know it is possible, and that the weight of previous failures should not be carried when you're ready to rise up and move forward.

 

As for them, also for me. I am a godly stumblebum, myself. I've made many mistakes; quite a few even in the recent past. I still fall. But my belief in God's grace helps get me back up, and leads me to lean forward and risk falling again, so that I can move and help others move onwards with me.

 

If I get too in love with being godly, I'm likely to make a mockery of what God intends to do with me. Godly is good, but grace is better. A godly stumblebum, falling forward again and again, sometimes with the occasional faceplant on the pavement of life, but knowing that stopping and sitting and staying where I am is not what the God I love, the Lord I honor, wants for me. So this godly stumblebum gets up, and starts falling again.

 

If you see a group of people walking together, just consider this: they are all falling together, some more elegantly or easily than others, but they are also catching themselves, at different points and in a variety of ways, and swinging forward step by step, fall by fall.

 

Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and pastor in Licking County; he's not sure he's ready for Lent, but too late for that! Tell him where you stumble and fall, and rise, at knapsack77@gmail.com or follow @Knapsack on Twitter.

Faith Works 3-2-19a

Faith Works 3-2-19a

Jeff Gill

 

A way forward, or side-stepping issues?

___

 

As for the United Methodist Church and its recent General Conference, let alone the Roman Catholic bishops' gathering at the Vatican that happened earlier, they overlapped in more ways than one.

 

I am a semi-professional church geek, so even though I'm neither Methodist nor Catholic, I actually have had these two scheduled events on my calendar for some time. They are the kind of gatherings from which great things can be expected.

 

Or not. Church conferences and conventions and consultative assemblies are infamous for how little they often produce. It was often said before, during, and after the recent special General Conference (the UMC normally has them every four years, the next regularly scheduled one coming up in 2020 in Minneapolis) that it was being done somewhat in a hurry and moderately on the cheap, and it cost $3,600,000 to put together for 840 delegates and four days.

 

That doesn't include the amounts spent by groups pushing one agenda or another in the weeks and days ahead, clogging my social media with ads and emails and messages – probably a couple million there. Call it $5 million in total to accomplish . . . what?

 

The end result was essentially a reaffirmation of the current Book of Discipline, the guide book and laws of the UMC clergy and conferences and churches. One group hoped for a relaxation of limitations and restrictions on LGBTQ clergy, another wished to see them maintained and even tightened.

 

You could say the latter side won, but I think in Christian life it's always something to worry about when you start talking about sides, and definitely I pause before declaring anyone this side of the Throne of Heaven a "winner." The standards will not be relaxed, and progressives are starting to look for the exits. No one looked good in the four days of parliamentary maneuver and endless voting; to many within and without of the Methodist communion, it didn't look like what we want to see when we are trying to talk about faith communities at work.

 

The bishops in Rome didn't give them a good lead in, having built up expectations perhaps unreasonably, and ending up with a "more of the same" result of regrets, promises to do better, and a slightly more vehement statement by the Pontiff of "soon and very soon." When it comes to child abuse and consequences for abusers, the word "soon" doesn't sound very encouraging.

 

In other words, organized religion did not come off well in general media over the last two weeks. And while I'm not surprised, I had hopes. Let's say they weren't dashed, but they certainly weren't raised.

 

When Christians gather in large numbers, I'd like to hear more strong preaching and teaching, see dramatic acts of service and mission to the area where we came together, and know that God's good news is more widely known for our having met. Bluntly, that didn't happen. I teach history and polity to seminarians, so I know why it didn't happen, and why in many ways it happened the way it did, but that doesn't mean I have to like it.

 

In my own tradition, when I'm teaching our basic outlines to groups in churches and in classes for ministry preparation, I often say that the Disciples of Christ hold that there are three sacraments. Ancient liturgical traditions usually call for seven sacraments, and the Reformation churches in many cases boiled that down to two – baptism and communion. But for the Restoration Movement of which we're a part, there's baptism (by immersion), communion (weekly if not more often), and voting on stuff.

 

Is "voting on stuff" a sacramental act? No, not to anyone. Not really. But our life and activity makes it look as if we believe the act of voting on things has the power to bring the Holy Spirit to bear on a problem, that it can be a conduit of grace from the Divine realm into this broken world.

 

It doesn't work, of course. Voting on stuff is not a fast track to the will of God. American Protestant traditions like the Disciples or Methodists have a belief rooted in our relationship to frontier American history that voting fixes things – we may be getting over that. I don't know.

 

Yet the bishops in Rome showed us that their polity is not a guarantee of wisdom and swift justice, either. How do we wrestle with hard questions and wake up knowing that we have wrestled with God, and been in a holy place? Jacob did it in the wilderness, not a convention center. We may have to find a special place of our own to come and listen and learn.

 

Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and pastor in Licking County; he's not a Methodist, but he knows plenty of John Wesley quotes. Tell him where you see the traffic heading in this and other areas of church life at knapsack77@gmail.com, or follow @Knapsack on Twitter.

Faith Works 3-2-19

Faith Works 3-2-19

Jeff Gill

 

A way forward, or side-stepping the issue?

___

 

As for the United Methodist Church and its recent General Conference, there's a case to be made that my perspective on their decisions isn't worth a hill of beans in this crazy world.

 

I'm a straight white male, plus I'm not even a Methodist. But I can say utterly unironically that some of my best friends are, and I'm interested in their faith and work for a wide variety of reasons, personal and professional.

 

Plus, as a seminary teacher on occasion (and this semester is one such occasion) of history and polity, this is right in my wheelhouse for at least an historical viewpoint. I'm the kind of church politics geek who's had both last week's Catholic bishops' conference in Rome on his calendar for months, let alone GC2019 in St. Louis for the Methodists.

 

But to even hint in one column on my take on all this, I'm going to have to irritate people all across the spectrum of church and society. So buckle up.

 

It occurs to me that we have a president in this country (hang on, I'm not changing the subject, really) that would be perfectly content with having a harem. Like many wealthy and powerful men, he has shown a tendency to trade in wives for younger models (literally) who become sacrifices to his own mortality and aging process, soothing those transitions by keeping a more youthful partner in his bed and across the breakfast table. Would he like to be able to simply add new, younger ones rather than expensively having to transition from a former spouse to a later edition through divorce and property settlements? I can't imagine he wouldn't.

 

In this country, though, we have guardrails up. Our culture has settled on some guardrails around marriage and relationships – and you (or I) might think the lanes are too wide, the stripes need repainting, and the potholes are terrible, but there are guardrails, outside of which you just can't easily drive in the middle of traffic.

 

The big controversy in many quarters about how the United Methodist Church decided to retain its standards of "fidelity in marriage and chastity in singleness" for clergy and non-acceptance of same-sex marriage as a church act has to do with the role of the non-American membership of the UMC. African Methodists constitute around 40% of the total 12 plus million members, and they're growing at a rate that implies they'll be a majority relatively soon. The pressures on the processes wanting to liberalize standards have that as their backdrop. This Special General Conference was called, in part, because by the next regular General Conference in 2020 that majority will probably be a reality.

 

And the Africans are not interested in relaxing standards on sexual activity from where they've been. For this, they've been demonized in social media and by advocates of the changes proposed; perhaps worse, it's been repeatedly implied they've just been manipulated by cash and propaganda from American conservatives. When I read this stuff, I ask myself "have they actually ever met and talked to any African bishops?"

 

I have. I had a series of life-changing conversations with one, in this country, in 2005 and have kept up with him, and alongside him some mission and ministry partners in North Katanga on the eastern edge of the Democratic Republic of the Congo. What they have said repeatedly is this: our society does not have any guardrails. Next to none. Polygamy is common, exploitation rife in our cities and villages.

 

Christian preaching is often the first message many men have heard about the need to treat women with respect, and to live their family lives as something other than a series of conquests. This is, they tell me, still an ongoing struggle. The boundaries of their church are pretty much all the guardrails they have for defining family and relationships in any form other than through power and force as their defining qualities.

 

So they are not interested in relaxing any standards right now. And I hear them. I also see the conflict in this country perhaps more clearly than they do in Africa, and I acknowledge the pain felt by those who see our society making lane changes and resetting some road markers, opening up acceptance and support of same-sex relationships, but then seeing some churches, perhaps their own faith tradition say "we are not making those shifts." Not now, maybe not ever.

 

It is not a small thing being asked of either side, and the negotiations are perhaps not best worked out through voting and parliamentary procedure. The dialogue is not over. But for now, the UMC is staying in its same lane. And there's heavy traffic ahead.

 

Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and pastor in Licking County; he's not a Methodist, but he knows plenty of John Wesley quotes. Tell him where you see the traffic heading in this and other areas of church life at knapsack77@gmail.com, or follow @Knapsack on Twitter.

Notes from my Knapsack 2-28-19

Notes from my Knapsack 2-28-19

Jeff Gill

 

In the company of strangers

___

 

I work in Newark, and not far from the church I serve used to be a neighborhood bar.

 

Can a parson be sad to see a tavern close? Sure. For one thing, I'd always meant to go inside, and just hadn't gotten around to it. (Hey, ministers have to eat lunch, too.)

 

And when it closed, I realized that it was very nearly the last of a formerly common reality, the corner tap room.

 

I read on the internet, and it therefore must be true, that in the late 1940s around 90% of all beer and liquor was consumed in public places, but that by 1990 that figure was 30%.

 

It wouldn't surprise me if it was even lower today.

 

Robert Putnam in "Bowling Alone" pointed out in this and many other areas that we were becoming less connected as a people; he's continued for nearly thirty years to write about our eroding "social capital." The title of his most famous work was about the fact that the actual amount of bowling measured in games rolled hadn't actually dropped that much over fifty years, but the number of people participating in organized leagues had declined sharply.

 

He carries that point out into a variety of service clubs and organizations: it's not about liberal or conservative, progressive or traditionally minded groups, but people doing things together that's declining. And I'd include both churches and corner pubs. People pray at home at 2 am and say they are "spiritual but not religious," and they drink at home, too.

 

Add in trends away from marriage and childbearing, and you see a precipitous rush to solitude, or is it simply loneliness? Isolation and atomization pulling us apart, consumerism reinforcing the impulse to order online, take delivery on our front porch while we're away, and to keep our enjoyments private and alone.

 

So I am cheered when I am downtown in Granville, and yes, by the pubs and bars as much as by the busy churches and civic groups. We are a social community, and while I've written recently about my concern over how well we include and involve newcomers to Our Fayre Village, the hard fact of the matter is that we're more sociable and interactive than many communities, I'd suspect most. By a wide margin.

 

Just strolling – alone sometimes! – down the sidewalks of Broadway or Prospect and seeing the lights and tables and couples and groups at tables and in conversation, the tinkle of glasses sometimes heard as doors open and close, the sense and spirit of community at work across the rooms, it is all something for us to take pleasure in.

 

It is also represents a dual challenge for us, both to increase the circle of inclusion, and to maintain this community spirit in the face of some pretty serious trends against our way of being Granville. There are interests and investments pushing back against this sort of mutual interest, urging us to return to our corners and cubbyholes and solitary retreats. Lonely people are good consumers, and there are lots of people who want to sell you something there without distraction.

 

Meeting people in Granville is always interesting, and something I wish I did more of even when pressed for time. And I look forward to the warmer months ahead, the sidewalk tables set again, and the windows open of many establishments to where you can more easily get an inkling of the community at work within.

 

Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and pastor in Licking County; he hasn't been in as many bars as he probably should have been. Tell him where you meet strangers who become friends at knapsack77@gmail.com, or follow @Knapsack on Twitter.

Faith Works 2-23-19

Faith Works 2-23-19

Jeff Gill

 

To give God the glory

___

 

What does it mean to "give God the glory"?

 

It's a phrase we say to each other in church life quite often. The clearest roots for it I find in Revelation 14:7 – And he said with a loud voice, "Fear God and give him glory, because the hour of his judgment has come, and worship him who made heaven and earth, the sea and the springs of water."

 

But you can pick up the thread in Genesis 41, when Joseph, interpreting dreams, reminds Pharaoh "it is not me, but God at work in me." His gifts that so impressed the Egyptian court Joseph is quick to say are God's grace, a gift at work through him, not something for him to take credit for. Or, "give God the glory!"

 

I'm into this subject because of where I was taking us last week, asking about why people are homeless. I've seen and heard some answers, and they have taken me in directions both involving public policy, and personal beliefs.

 

One thing I hope everyone in our community has realized out of these last few weeks of dealing more directly, seeing more honestly the challenges some among us are facing, is that at the heart of homelessness and not a few other so-called social problems we have is the pain of mental illness.

 

Again, I am a parson and preacher, not a clinician. I do not have formal training in this field, but I've worked alongside of behavioral and mental health care and treatment my entire professional life. If I've learned anything from that journey, it is that mental health is health, pure and simple. And yes, addiction is a health care problem in most ways, too.

 

If you want to say "but someone chose to drink or drug and then maybe their personal biochemistry or genetics made them more vulnerable to addiction, but it's still their fault for going down that road," well, all kinds of workers can be vulnerable to back pain and related problems. They could change jobs, right? They didn't have to go into that particular line of work? So back pain is their fault!

 

You'd say that was crazy talk, and you'd be right. Look, we all have various vulnerabilities to different decisions we can make, some of them pro-social and some, frankly a bad idea no matter what the circumstances, but when one bad move can throw out your back or put you into a spiral of substance use, you need health care, not blame. You need treatment, not a lecture.

 

Most of the people who are unsheltered homeless appear to me to be dealing with untreated mental health issues. That's a personal opinion, but one shared by quite a few people working in the field. Those operating shelters, emergency shelters like the Salvation Army's or St. Vincent de Paul's or New Beginnings, or transitional housing to get people from emergency shelter to stability, like the Licking County Coalition for Housing, have to have rules and guidelines to protect their entire population being served. There are people with a run of bad luck, often with children (see last week's column for more on this), and people who have more complex needs, and when the capacity is reached, it's going to be both the simpler and younger circumstances that will have first claim on space.

 

And yes, some people get kicked out of shelters, and others choose to not go in where they suspect that's what will happen to them in time, anyhow.

 

The shelter capacity and rules/barriers discussions are complex and ongoing. They won't go away. Meanwhile, I think there's a parallel conversation we all need to be part of, and that's how we provide behavioral and mental health care for everyone who needs it. A broken brain, a sprained heart, a pattern of thought that's more illness than intention: those need treatment just as spouting arteries or the sudden onset of unconsciousness does.

 

To my initial theological point: we all know any of us could be hurt and need an emergency room. That's not in dispute. But if we look at the impoverished and dispossessed and think "that can never be me" then we're assuming our efforts, our energies, our healthy intentions are all due to our own merit. And I would say, respectfully, "no." Give God the glory. Serving those who are without is way of acknowledging that what we have is as much gift, is grace, more than the result of our earning, to our credit. Yes, good work and careful choices should be blessed, but they aren't always. When we do well, we do well to remember the source of all that is well, every good gift.

 

Give God the glory, and give thanks for the opportunity to help, to share, to serve.

 

Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and pastor in Licking County; he feels blessed to be able to serve others. Tell him how you give God the glory at knapsack77@gmail.com, or follow @Knapsack on Twitter.