Holy Whisper

"This is the body of Christ, broken for you."
"This is the blood of Christ, shed for you."


In my short life, I have celebrated communion hundreds (maybe even thousands) of times. In all those times, I have never heard these words shouted. I have never heard them proclaimed with strong authority. I have never even heard them loud enough to create an echo, or be heard more than a few feet away. No, these are words that are always said in a holy whisper. Whether the server is a bishop or a teenager, it is always whispered:

"This is the body of Christ, broken for you."
"This is the blood of Christ, shed for you."

Maybe the whispers are signs of reverence and awe of what Christ has done and is doing. We know that the presence of God is passing from server's hands to congregant's hands, and therefore too important to announce casually.

Maybe the whispers are remnants of the early church, whose people whispered these words because saying it any louder could invite persecution, arrest, or even death. In the face of danger, they whispered to keep the holy mystery alive.

Maybe it is because the distribution of bread and cup is too intimate to shout. No matter how large the congregation, it is one person feeding another, as long as it takes, until all have eaten. This is the body of Christ, for you. This piece of bread, these few drops of wine, are not for your neighbor. They will receive their own. No, this morsel, this drop, is for you, picked out especially for you by the God who loves you, and I say these words so that you and you alone may hear.

Maybe it's something else entirely. Whatever it is, I am glad to give and receive this holy whisper. I am glad because it reminds me of the saints before me, the saints around me, and the saints to come. And it reminds me that sometimes, God speaks in a still, small voice, perhaps even a holy whisper.

R.I.P. Guaranteed Appointment

Today, at the General Conference of the United Methodist Church, one of the most heated issues was decided by consent calendar. No discussion from the floor, no holy conversation. Just like that, guaranteed appointment for United Methodist clergy met its end.

Once people realized what happened, Twitter and Facebook “blew up,” in social media parlance, in opposition to the decision. Much of the frustration was not the decision itself, but that reality that such a monumental decision deserved conversation from the floor rather than anti-climactic adoption on the consent calendar. A motion to reconsider was proposed, spoken in favor of because “the world is watching” (on Twitter and Facebook) and asking for more conversation. Unfortunately, the motion to reconsider did not pass, and with that, guaranteed appointment went away for good.

This is a significant decision in the life of our church, and we all have our opinions. I share with you in this space my own reactions, not as an expert on United Methodist polity, but as a member of the order of elders in the UMC, and thus as someone directly affected by this decision.

First, I am proud of our church, because social media influenced the proceedings. Ultimately, the social media conversations were ignored by the body of General Conference, but the fact that Twitter feeds entered into the conversation is historical. As a church, we are beginning to understand the benefits of new methods of communication, and to me this is one small sign that we are willing to think and act in new ways.

Second, I am flummoxed at the double standard that has been set in the UMC in the last 24 hours. Yesterday, legislation to set term limits for bishops in the United States was defeated, and bishops retained lifetime episcopacy. The main argument in favor of this was that it gives bishops the security to speak with prophetic voices without fear of “losing their job.” The same argument has been made in favor of retaining guaranteed appointment. Clergy with guaranteed appointment can speak more prophetically in their ministry without fear of “losing their job.” And yet, General Conference acted inconsistently on these similar issues.

I know there are strong feelings about both lifetime episcopal appointment and guaranteed clergy appointment, but the arguments for both are so similar that there must be consistency between the two. As a church, we have now used the argument of protecting prophetic voice to retain episcopal job security, and ignored it to eliminate guaranteed appointment. Regardless of one’s personal opinion on either, I find it difficult to support one without the other.

Finally, I am in favor of ending guaranteed appointment, and support the action that has been taken. I do wish we had been consistent by also setting term limits for bishops, and I do wish there had been more conversation on the floor before it was passed. However, I believe this action will positively address the problem of clergy ineffectiveness and mediocrity in the UMC. Removing clergy who are underperforming or no longer fit for appointed ministry will now become easier, and in true Wesleyan fashion, we will become more accountable to each other.

I am aware of the arguments for retaining guaranteed appointment. One is that guaranteed appointment is the benefit that balances the sacrifice of submitting to itinerancy. The other is that ending guaranteed appointment makes discrimination easier against female and minority clergy. Both are legitimate concerns that we must address as we put this decision into action. However, both arguments also display a complete lack of trust in church authority, namely district superintendents and bishops.

I realize that there are times when the distrust of conference and denominational authorities is well-founded. However, I am deeply grieved by the extremely high level of distrust, fear, and paranoia I am already hearing in the reaction to this decision. Friends, how can we expect to operate as the church if we cannot trust each other? Please know that I am not proposing blind trust and assent to the authority of bishops and cabinet. They too must be held accountable to effectiveness and faithfulness. Rather, I am proposing that we live out the grace which we profess, and expect the best of our leaders rather than the worst.

Those who are angry at the end of guaranteed appointments must not be silenced. Let us share our own concerns and frustrations, and listen to those of others. But the anger must not lead to long-term bitterness and distrust. Such a reaction will only hurt our mission and ministry as brothers and sisters in Christ. I hope and pray that we who are clergy will move forward with courage and trust, and will seek excellence and faithfulness in our ministry. I also pray that we will hold our bishops and cabinets accountable to act with grace and understanding rather than discrimination or personal biases.

Most importantly, I pray that we will all move forward without the fear and distrust that is so common in the world. Brothers and sisters, this is a chance for us to show the world a new way of living and being. This is a chance to model genuine trust and selflessness in our lives and work. Can we take this opportunity to model Christian relationships based on love and grace, or will we again let cynicism, fear, and mistrust determine our thoughts and actions? May we trust each other, hold each other accountable, and trust in the one God who is above all, through all, and in all.

Just Shut Up for Lent

Scripture is full of prayers. Psalms, the Lord’s Prayer, Jesus’ prayer in the garden, Paul praying for the early church – these are all wonderful models of praying, of talking with God. But one prayer we often overlook is the prayer of Samuel.

That’s right, the prayer of Samuel, the boy in the temple who couldn’t even recognize God’s voice calling in the night. But eventually, with the help of Eli, Samuel heard God’s call and responded with a six word prayer of his own:

“Now the Lord came and stood there, calling as before, “Samuel! Samuel!” And Samuel said, “Speak, for your servant is listening.” (1 Samuel 3:10)

Speak, for your servant is listening. I’ll admit, I can’t remember the last time I began to pray to God with words like these. Most of my prayers begin with empty promises, effusive praise, or supplications that are best described as the begging of a petulant child. When I pray, I am quick to speak, and slow to listen.

But what if we spent less time talking and more time listening when we pray? What if our only prayer was, like Samuel's, an invitation for God to speak? I suspect such a practice would remind us who is really in control (hint: it’s not us!). It would also be an act of faith, a living out of our belief that God can still speak to us. And in that holy silence, if we actually shut up long enough, we might hear the voice of God.

Of course, we may not really want to hear God’s voice, and that is why we so often fill the silence with narcissistic ramblings. If we let God speak, what will God say? As long as we are talking, we have the security of controlling the conversation.

As Lent begins, we are choosing to discipline ourselves for the next 40 days. If you want to give something up, give up talking so much when you pray. If you want to take something on, take on the discipline of holy silence. As we pray, God just might have something to tell us. But we’ll never know unless we shut up long enough to let God talk.

"A Note About Social Justice...

...and a God Moment."

For the first time, I have a guest blogger. Over the last year, we've been encouraging folks at the church to look for "God moments" that occur "between the Sundays," as I like to say, and then share them with us in worship or in other ways. Earlier this week, I received an email from a member of our church who wanted to share a God moment with me. With this person's permission, I share the email in its entirety, with only a few minor editorial corrections.

Over the past year and a half or more, a co-worker and I have had a lot of conversations about politics and economics, and have touched a little bit on church and religion. Since he doesn't have much knowledge and very little interest in church, it just isn't something that we spend much time in conversation about unless I bring it up. Today, during another friendly debate on the appropriate role of government in society, he abruptly asked me, "So, what does your church do in the community? Like, how many people do you feed and clothe?" It is honestly the first time he expressed any interest in the actual ministry of the church. And it wasn't interest in the style of worship on Sunday morning. Or our Sunday School classes. Or if we have a gathering space to drink coffee or not. "HOW MANY PEOPLE DO YOU FEED AND CLOTHE?"

At the risk of diverting attention away from making disciples of Jesus Christ, and focusing on ministry with the community (which would be to feed and clothe people), I just want to highlight that these ministries in themselves are evangelism in ways we might not realize. I have often struggled with how to share my faith with this coworker. Turns out, it's easy to share your faith when you are telling someone about the after-school program that provides the best dinner a kid may get in a week. It's easy to share your faith when you talk about the cooperative church-run store for minimally-priced clothes.  And it is hard to get work done on an afternoon full of such interesting conversation!