Abundant Love

Abundant Love <-- audio file of sermon – Based upon Psalm 139

Good morning. Some of you may remember me from last July when I was here but in case I missed you, let me tell you a bit about myself so you might understand where I come from and what I’m doing here today.

My name is Lavender. I’m a graduate of the Presbyterian seminary in Louisville, KY where I met Pastor Kathy but now I’m a member of the United Church of Christ. I am also a cancer survivor so I spend a good bit of time working with causes that raise money for cancer cures. For example, I shaved my head last month to raise money for childhood cancer research. And most importantly, I’m a pediatric chaplain at Children’s Memorial Hospital in Chicago. That’s my full time call where I am continually honored to sit with people in some of the darkest periods and most joyous moments of their lives. Being with families when they feel so powerless due to the illness of their children is in my experience one of those places where the theological rubber hits the road. If what we believe doesn’t hold up in those moments, then we are left wondering, searching, and feeling abandoned. Where is God? Why did this happen to us? If God is so powerful, why is my baby still sick?

These are the questions I hear every day and faithfully attempt to work with. This is where today’s Psalm comes in. Now before you get uncomfortable, let me say that my introduction doesn’t mean that I’m going to tell you hospital stories that make you cry. Instead, the bulk of this sermon centers on love. Love so abundant that it’s ever present, connects us so deeply, and makes every step of the journey worth it.

Psalm 139 is an amazing psalm. It is King David’s song of what it feels like to be loved by God. One commentary refers to this psalm as the “No escape, no regrets, no compromise” psalm because of the story it tells of how wondrous it is to be loved by God. But this is a song of far more meaning than that. It’s also the story of how we, in God’s image attempt to love. It’s how we parent. It’s how we look into our beloved’s eyes. It’s how we engage each other in our more perfect moments. It’s about a present, connecting, and compellingly abundant love.

From the very beginning of David’s song of praise, he speaks of God’s presence regardless of where he’s at, regardless of what’s going on, and regardless of David’s willingness to engage God. God is present because love never leaves us.

The psalmist tells us: “You know when I sit down and when I rise up; you discern my thoughts from far away. You search out my path and my lying down, and are acquainted with all my ways. Even before a word is on my tongue, O Lord, you know it completely. You hem me in, behind and before, and lay your hand upon me.”

That’s a powerful image of God with us. But is that how we experience God. We live in a time where skepticism, cynicism, and doubt often rightfully point to brokenness. And what of the people I encounter at the hospital who feel so abandoned in a dark and powerless place? Is God that present here and now? Without a doubt, yes. I believe there are lots of places and ways to experience God that are both powerful and gentle. In our daily lives we encounter beauty, creation, mystery, love, and wonder that must surely point to God. In the dark places, even though we may not be able to see it at the time, God shines through many of the faces of the people around us. Friends, I’m nothing special and if you tell me you experience God in the sunrise, I’ll not argue with you. I know people who even say they hear a voice they know is God. Now as long as that voice leads them to be more loving and whole, who am I to say it’s not God. God is abundantly present.

But let’s go a step further. How we understand God’s presence also matters. Listen to these words again. “You know when I sit down and when I rise up; you discern my thoughts from far away. You search out my path and my lying down, and are acquainted with all my ways. Even before a word is on my tongue, O Lord, you know it completely. You hem me in, behind and before, and lay your hand upon me.”

I have heard abusers use such language as a tool of power and control over their prey. Abusers inflate their image by talking of how they are inescapable and all-knowing making the abused feel like they are powerless… and worst of all abuse is often framed by the abuser as love.

Now it may catch you off guard to hear me compare David’s psalm to the experience of abuse. But I raise this similarity for a reason. Language can be a tricky thing. Words often sound the same. But what matters is how we experience it. God’s love is present but never imposing or overbearing. David’s experience of God is not that of being controlled but one of being gently held along the way. His experience was that of moving about freely while wrapped in the fabric of God that fit him perfectly so that it moved as if it was part of him. That is nothing short of abundant love.

This brings us to the second element of this abundant love. It is a love that is deeply relational, connecting, and knowing. Throughout this psalm there are a few words that stand out repeatedly. First of all, this psalm uses more I/you language than almost any other. This is basic grammar 1st person and 2nd person stuff. We only use these two tenses together in relationships. David talks about how he and God are connected… how they are in relationship.

Beginning at verse 15, “My frame was not hidden from you, when I was being made in secret, intricately woven in the depths of the earth. Your eyes beheld my unformed substance. In your book were written all the days that were formed for me, when none of them as yet existed. How weighty to me are your thoughts, O God! How vast is the sum of them! I try to count them—they are more than the sand; I come to the end—I am still with you.”

But more than using I and you repeatedly to signify relationship, David goes even deeper. He uses some form of the word “to know” 7 times throughout this psalm. To know… that seems simple enough. I know Pastor Kathy. I know that 1+1=2. But in Hebrew, the word we translate as know, knowledge, knowing and its other forms means way more than just facts. The Hebrew word “yada” is a deeply intimate word. In scripture the same root word is used to talk about the intimate, mysterious way that someone knows their beloved. It’s a word that implies understanding, reverence, and awe. It’s about seeing and knowing so deeply that you can’t imagine anything but loving actions between the two. David felt such wonder that God knew him in ways he didn’t even know himself. He proclaims, “Such knowledge is too wonderful for me; it is so high that I cannot attain it.”

But we do attain it in some ways. Consider how we “know” those close to us like a child or a beloved. Even as we know them more, we see more that they are to become. There is both knowing and mystery woven together. God’s love… abundant love holds all of who we are, all that has brought us here, and all that we are not yet in a reverent gaze so that when we look at someone close to us we say, “I see you so fully in some ways yet ‘Such knowledge is too wonderful for me; it is so high that I cannot attain it.’” Ultimately, it is often the mystery of what is beyond knowing someone that reveals the most fullness. For me, it’s that gap between what is known and what has yet to unfold that is most awe and God inspiring. Looking upon that chasm inspires me to want this God love even more because I know that I must surely be seeing glimpses of God’s image in those whom I regard. I must surely be looking at the gap between my ability to love and God’s image in us and instead of feeling small, I feel inspired to love all the more.

Now because it always catches people’s attention in the psalm I feel I must address David’s digression into contempt for the those who hate God… those vile evildoers who curse God and I do believe this section also fits with what true “knowing” is. In verses 19-22 David takes on an almost playground persona of “my daddy will beat up your daddy” as he takes his eyes off God, where they’ve been throughout the psalm, and looks with judgmental eyes upon those he doesn’t understand. Yet he bounces back to placing his eyes on God almost as if he knows something may have been wrong in what he’s uttered. He doesn’t express understanding as to what was wrong but he seems to know God will as he ends with one of the single greatest prayers in scripture. "Search me, O God and know my heart. Try me and know my thoughts. See if there is any wicked way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting."

When I read David’s quick bounce back, I often wonder if he suddenly realized that God intimately knows and loves these other people too. He has a relationship with God that is present even when he doesn’t respond so I imagine that he suddenly realizes that he was singing this song of hate when the only song he needed to sing was, “God, you know me. Please help me feel your presence. Where there is malice in me, show me a more perfect way.” Such a prayer can only be uttered in safety, relationship, and love… abundant love.

This brings us to the final element of such a wondrous abundant love… that of journeying and growing all along the way. I began today by talking about people’s experience of feeling abandoned by God. I need to concede to you that I don’t have clear one liner answers or sound bites that would satisfy Fox News or CNN. I can never tell people why their child is sick in a way that has universal meaning. But I do know they are good people who do good things and don’t deserve it. And even if the parents were truly rotten, no one deserves pain and suffering. So, where is God when we suffer?

Well, like I’ve pointed to, God is very present even when we can’t fully see it. God is most definitely right there with us. I can’t answer these huge questions that have been too great for us for millennia. But I do know that much like we live in relationship with God, we also live in relationship with each other. We, as I’ve pointed to, live out God’s love and that vision in all our relationships. We stand in those gaps and that darkness to help others along the way. We celebrate those triumphs and special moments as we each become more than we were before. We journey together. We journey together in a way that reveals God’s presence. We journey together in a way that reveals God’s love. We journey together in a way that challenges us, moves us, changes us… and is ALWAYS worth it.

Why is it worth it? Verses 13 & 14 tell us: “For it was you who formed my inward parts; you knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works; that I know very well.”

Fearfully and wonderfully made… no matter when or where I read that phrase, it sticks with me. Fearfully and wonderfully made… what is that? I’ll tell you what it is. 6 years ago, my nephew was born. Upon receiving word, I hopped in the car and drove to Tennessee so that I could see him. When I first held him, I was filled with love. A love that overflows because it’s like in that moment I was catching a glimpse of all that he is, all that God knitted together… so full… so amazing, so beautiful. And then in the same gasp I was also aware of all that he would face… troubles, tears, bruises, broken hearts, fears… it all hit me. All that I hoped for him and all that I feared… but in that moment, tears streaming down my face, I knew that our love… his life… all along the way would be worth the risk of broken hearts and bicycle accidents. To be fearfully and wonderfully made is to be all that we are and risk all that will happen, knowing that no matter what happens, it will be worth it.

The families I meet at the hospital, even when the outcome is grave know that no matter what, having and loving that child is worth it. When we look into our beloved’s eyes and risk loving in sickness and health, we do so because it’s worth it. When we reach out to new friends and relationships and risk rejection we are saying that connection and love is more important and worth it. Sisters and brothers, Despite all our fears, the people we love, the passions we pursue, and the ways we seek to live out God’s calling and presence in our lives… these things are ALWAYS worth it.

We are fearfully and wonderfully made. God set in motion a creation and stays with it all along the way knowing that such a relationship may risk unthinkable outcomes. But in doing so, God leads by example and shows that it’s worth it. Our charge is to live out God’s image together knowing it’s worth it. Our charge is to embrace, to uphold, to nurture, to love. Our charge is to be vulnerable to the embrace, to be vulnerable to the nurture, and to be vulnerable to the love others. When we go out into the world, we are to live into the creation God has made us to be. Do this by knowing that we are all fearfully and wonderfully made.

Amen

A Prayer Along The Way

God, we’ve made it here… even though we don’t yet know what here means. Thank you for being with us to this point and all that you’ve done to get us to this place.

Please continue to walk with us and show us what this time holds. We need direction, patience, and nurture along the path. Help us to see those things that will sustain us as they come our way. When we miss an opportunity of blessing, help us to keep our eyes open for the next. When we are tired, lead us to peaceful slumber. When we are frustrated, give us a listening ear. When we are scared, wrap us in your love. And when we need laughter and joy, help us to dance with the love that carries us all along the way.

Gracious God, most of all, help us to come through this time with grace and land on the other side with wisdom.

With hope and love we pray, Amen.

Resurrection... Now and Always

As a Christian I've struggled to make the resurrection meaningful and real. Even as a cancer survivor, it does not always seem to make sense. But resurrection is not about mere survival. Resurrection is about transformation, thriving, and a lived life beyond our previous imagination. May we all experience resurrection now and always.

The Best Chaplain I Ever Did Know

As you probably I know I am a chaplain in a pediatric hospital.  For the sake of clarity, let me define the role of hospital chaplain in general terms.  A chaplain is a clergy person who regardless of their own beliefs, supports the spiritual and emotional needs of patients, families, and staff in a hospital.  That role can look like advocacy around poverty or race issues or it can be more like sitting in the dark silence with someone when words fail us. The role is diverse and always changing.

 

I came to this profession because of a deep sense of calling combined with some strong gifts and skills for the job.  But where did these gifts and skills come from?  The easy answer would be to say God.  But the truth is I had a great teacher.  I learned from the best chaplain there ever has been.  His name is Bear Bear.

Bear Bear is my stuffed bear that I’ve had since Valentine’s Day 1976. If you ever meet him, you’ll realize that he used to be white with a red belly but now he’s dirty beige and kind of burgundy.  He’s endured many surgeries (repairs), has a broken eye, a missing mouth, and his fur is rubbed thin in places.  If you’re familiar with The Velveteen Rabbit by Margery Williams, you’ll recognize that he is “real” because he has all the signs of being truly loved.

 

Anyway, all of the most important things I know about being a good chaplain I learned from Bear Bear.  First of all, he is an amazing listener.  Whether I was crying my eyes out or just chatting, he never flinched.  He paid attention without judging, interrupting, or becoming distracted.  I could see it in his eyes.  He looked deeply into me as if to say, “no matter the words coming out of your mouth, I understand and love you.”

 

If Bear Bear’s empathy came through in his listening, it was most pronounced in his intuitive presence.  He knew what I needed.  Whether it was appropriate use of touch, distracting play, or wiping my tears, he paid attention to what the moment needed.  He seemed to have an intuitive sense about when the right time was to hug and just be with me or when it was time to gently guide me into doing something different.  I’ve come to believe that intuition is partially about how our brain works.  But it is more a matter of truly being with someone so that all the contextual pieces form a clearer picture in that moment.

 

Bear Bear demonstrated his intuitiveness but more importantly, he paid attention to what that inner voice told him.  He acted with both assuredness and gentleness.  If there is a definition of pastoral authority, that is it.  He was bold to reach out but soft to the touch.  He was firm in his beliefs but nurturing to my development. He gave of himself but claimed personal time with friends (he played very well with others from the toy box).  He looked for new ways of helping but honored our familiar traditions.  Bear Bear offered who he was and what he could in whatever situation arose.

Gleaning from the lessons Bear Bear taught me, I’ve learned to communicate through my body language that I care, to truly sit in the moment with people so that my movements are purposeful, to listen to my inner voice and act accordingly, and so much more.  As I consider everything I am as a chaplain, I first own a debt of gratitude to my mentor, guide, and friend Bear Bear.  Thank you Bear Bear.

The Moment That Matters

Recently a child died unexpectedly while admitted to the hospital.  Because it is rare to have anything unforeseen happen at our hospital, the staff experience these moments as difficult to reconcile.  I hear “what if” questions from the most brilliant and competent of care providers.  I also find myself asking how I could have met the spiritual and emotional needs of the family and staff better.  Those questions are perfectly reasonable.  We have a hospital culture that invites us to always grow and become more than we are.  So, these questions come from a place of recognizing that we can always do something better.  But will the growth from that process necessarily change the outcome of such situations? 

It might but that does not need to be our only focus.  Our job, regardless of the specifics of our functions, is to enter into particular moments in time where we engage all the dynamics and variables of that moment bringing who we are and what we can offer.  That sounds like a lot but it is exactly what we do every day.  Working in a hospital, regardless of the position, is very much about being engaged so that we see the patterns and needs as they emerge.  We utilize our senses, training, and one another to produce the best outcomes for our patients and families.  Yet, we don’t always get the result we want.

Shortly after this child died, I was talking with one of the staff as she asked the questions of what could have been done differently.  Yet, I sensed in her a darker sense of guilt and doubt that I’ve watched haunt nurses and doctors to the point of leaving the profession.  As we spoke, I asked her, “What would it have really taken to create a different outcome for that child?”  She looked at me puzzled so I answered the question for her.  I said, “I believe you did your absolute best in that small moment in time that you were with the patient.  That moment was preceded by many many moments where other decisions would have had to have been made in order for your moment to be different.  It’s like walking in on an elaborate pattern of dominos falling.  You only get to see a small section but the dominos have been hitting one after another for a long time.  You did exactly what you could in that moment.”

What I told her is true.  When I look at the medical realities of the patient, I see a series of events that cascaded toward that one moment where she died.  Our staff entered into a critical moment for that child and provided world class medical care that honored her and her family.  We worked hard as individuals of various disciplines and as a team.  Yet, we were not able to save the child.  Why?  Did someone do something wrong?  Not in that moment.  Sure, there are little things that we can improve upon.  For example, I wish I had arrived faster to support the family.  But I didn’t because there are many needs and as a chaplain, I triage needs just like the clinical staff.

I’m not saying that medical mistakes never happen because we all know that they do.  Nevertheless, that was not the case in this moment nor has it been the case in any moments I’ve witnessed.  Yet, I continue to encounter staff that internalize the traumatic nature of such a loss and become haunted by its memory. 

We enter moments.  We can’t be responsible for all the other moments that lead to that one.  We must have grace for ourselves and recognize our limits.  This grace is certainly akin to God’s grace.  We are always in the presence of moments with God and all creation where we are limited in our influence because there is so much more that has happened and will continue once we’re gone.  We are truly part of an elaborate, always unfolding, pattern of dominos that drop and create the next moment and the next moment and the next moment.  May we always enter the moment.

The Pinhole by Lavender Kelley

A young one was lost, wandering in the dark.  Occasionally, she would bump into others who also roamed.  But, they did not realize she was lost.  They did not understand that they were lost as well.  A few of them believed they knew the path and took her with them.  She trusted them and went where they went.  However, with time, she always ended up alone and even more lost… a little more afraid than before with a few new injuries that told of her journey through the dark.

Once in a while, she thought she could see a distant pinhole in the dark through which light shown.  She tried to make the journey to look through the pinhole, but each time the great chasm of darkness, her painful injuries, and vexing fears made her lose sight of the light.  Sometimes she stopped when  she  met some who had been hurt badly.  She tried to help them.  But when she did, her own injuries got worse and the pinhole seemed even farther away.

Eventually, she came to see the pinhole less and less.  Sometimes she doubted there was any light at all.  She imagined that she was abandoned in the darkness as a way of punishing her.  She did not like the way thinking about that made her feel.  She liked to sit and imagine what wondrous things there were outside the darkness.  From time to time, that gave her hope but the hope would quickly vanish into the darkness.  Mostly, however, she just felt trapped, believing that she deserved the darkness and that she would never know anything more of the light than the image of the pinhole that eluded her.

One day, feeling desperate, she moved through the darkness as quickly as she could.  She called out names of those that might know of the light.  Someone heard her, but he did not know anything of the pinhole.  Wanting to help, that one called to another and then another.  In a matter of moments, she was passed through the darkness along a corridor and found herself with someone different than the others she had met.  Rather than tell her that she was lost and just needed to follow someone that “knows,” this one listened to her share her journey and the hope for peering through the pinhole.  After hearing this courageous account, this new one held her tightly.  She wept in the embrace.  This was not like the holding of the darkness that always felt cold and unwelcome.  This embrace was warm, inviting.  There was something very different about this feeling.  She knew that she was safe.  She knew that she was loved.  And then her eyes opened. 

She immediately understood that it had not been a pinhole in the distance that she had seen all this time.  Rather, it was the light around her trying to enter her eyelids.  At first she felt shame.  She cried out, “Why did I not just open my eyes?  I would not have all these gashes and bruises.  See, it is my fault!”

This one held her hand and said, “It is not your fault. No one held you tightly enough for you to know.  No one told you.  All you knew were the others with their eyes closed.”

Suddenly, she realized that this one was not just right in front of her.  This One was everywhere… even in her.  That pinhole had not only been the light trying to show her the way out of the darkness.  It had also been her light trying to illuminate the darkness for them all. 

She heard the One speak.  “You will still hurt, but you will also find true rest.  Rest, my little one.  Rest in the light and do not fear the dark.  We are One and never alone.”

Helping Children Cope After Traumatic Loss

Recently, I was asked for advice on what to do with children on a significant date in the life of a grandparent who committed suicide less than a year ago.  The questions were about whether to involve their children ranging in ages from 7-12 in rituals and sharing as well as how to talk with them.  The parent also shared with me details of how each child tends to process, communicate, and share emotion.  The following is my response to that person with appropriate edits to protect the family. 

[Friend],

You’ve been in my thoughts and prayers.  No death is ever easy but some are harder and leave us with more questions than others. Suicide is usually among the hardest for everyone to make peace with, not just for children.  So, let me start by saying that I hope you are finding the support you need.  Maintaining all your roles as parent, spouse, child, and so much more is incredibly difficult in the midst of grief, especially when it is traumatic and unexpected.

Talking to kids about death is a significant part of what I do for a living but telling you for certain how to handle it is impossible. Every child is different and you obviously know that because of the way you describe them.  So, I suggest you give yourself credit and trust your intuition with them. 

From what I know of you and [your spouse], you are open parents who talk in age appropriate ways to your children.  But as a reminder, it is best to use consistent, direct wording like “dead” or “death” because you don't want this to be confused with other types of leaving. But a difficulty you face is that [your oldest child] is now processing from a combination of abstract and concrete thinking whereas [your youngest child] is still a concrete thinker.  This may mean having conversations with them at different times so they can each ask and get what they need.  Personally, I avoid theological messages like “God needed him in heaven” because it gives kids painful messages they can’t process about their own safety here and now. But it is okay to talk about “being with God and Jesus in heaven” if that is what you believe.

Most importantly, when they are ready, answer their questions and talk to them about it. Every kid is different so those questions will come at different times.  You can encourage questions without forcing the conversation. But when one of them does ask questions, be prepared to answer the tough ones like when will grandma, mommy, daddy, siblings, and self will die. Try never to act shocked by their questions because they’ll interpret it as something being wrong with their questions.  Sometimes they ask truly difficult ones like “what did he do wrong that he killed himself?” or “if I die, will you replace me?”  These are questions that need straight answers.  Listen for what the underlying need or fear is and just answer them in simple, honest ways.

Now that I’ve gone on (maybe too long) about how to talk, let me get to your specific questions about what to do on these significant dates like birthdays, death anniversaries, and such.  I appreciate you “not wanting to put any emotions on the [the children]” but they need to see the wide array of emotions you have AND witness you handling them appropriately. In part, this is done by you having conversations with [your spouse] (perhaps even including them) where you share your thoughts and feelings but only go as far as they can handle.  It will give them courage to handle their own emotions to witness you two doing the same.

As for what specifically to say or do, do whatever is natural and meaningful to you and your family.  Kids need to learn that rituals and remembrances are a way we hold onto people in a healthy way.  If it is meaningful for you to tell stories, then do that.  It you prefer to do something else, please do.  What’s important is that the children see you as facing your grief and dealing with it rather than avoiding it.  But also give room for them to grow into and prefer other rituals of their own.  Some kids like to write letters or draw pictures for the person who has died.  Anyway, whatever is done, you should emphasize that this is about BOTH honoring/loving [the grandparent] AND helping ya’ll to express your feelings.  With time they will come to understand that those activities ultimately make your memories of [the grandparent] more meaningful.

Again, I want to encourage you to trust yourself while also listening to your inner needs.  Kids are more in tune with sensing comfort and discomfort than they are your specific words.  If you are uncomfortable, please do what you need to grow through that.  But also just be honest with them about why you are uncomfortable.  That will help them more than trying to hide your discomfort.

I hope this has been helpful.  You will continue to be in my prayers.  Please let me kwon I you need anything. I also have some great children’s resources like coloring books, books for various reading levels, and support information if you are interested.  I could ship you anything you think might be helpful.

Grace and Peace,

Lavender

P.S. Now that I read back through this I think the one thing I didn't say that I wanted to is that they are looking to you to learn how to grieve.  You are their guide and they will likely be able to handle whatever rituals or events you include them in as long as you prepare them for it.  Make sure they know what to expect.  I know it sounds odd to tell someone step by step what will happen at a ritual but kids need to know in advance what concrete steps to take or they are more caught in their fear than their wonder.  It is in wonder that rituals bear their greatest gifts. 

Sorrow and Hope: A Response to Civil Union and Christian Marriage Committee Preliminary Report

Yesterday the Civil Union and Christian Marriage Committee released its preliminary report. I am deeply grateful for their work and can read in the text the earnestness and love of Christ that the members posses. They were charged with studying “the following, including any policy recommendations growing out of the study:

• the history of the laws governing marriage and civil union, including current policy debates;
• how the theology and practice of marriage have developed in the Reformed and broader Christian tradition;
• the relationship between civil union and Christian marriage;
• the effects of current laws on same-gender partners and their children; and
• the place of covenanted same-gender partnerships in the Christian community.”

Having read and reflected upon this report today, I believe they delved deeply into all of their charges. Yet, it is the last one where I always felt like the most crucial issues of this discussion lay. What is the place of covenanted same-gender partnerships in the Christian community? The committee that studied this issue even sought input from the body at large and I along with many others offered submissions. The committee findings and statement are found from page 23-28 of the report.

This is a deeply personal issue for me. I am a lesbian clergy woman who is currently leaving the PC(USA) because of a lack of “place” for me, my wife, and our daughter. We are not leaving because we found no place in congregational life or lacked in fellowship with Christian sisters and brothers. On the contrary, we’ve found much love and support in the church. Christ’s love, welcome, and reconciliation has been alive with us and will continue in these relationships that live beyond denominational confines. Our departure is due to conflicts over polity rather than relationship or theology.

The committee’s mandate also called on them to research the history of marriage which they did well. In fact, I found my own beliefs echoed because I find that marriage as we currently understand it in the church and western culture is a fairly young phenomenon. Biblical images of marriage do not look like what we practice nor is it what most people want for themselves or their children.

Yet, there are deeper messages in the Bible, Christian history, and beyond that tell us not so much about contractual marriage as much as they teach us about covenant relationship. As seen from the beginning of Hebrew Scripture, we are a people who have a deep understanding that God loves us and covenants with us through all times and in all conditions. It is God’s example that we mimic through our interpersonal and intimate relationships. We are always seeking to cultivate the love and growth that covenant relationship nurtures, the love that God instills within us.

This belief is constantly reinforced as I find that most people are doing the best they can to live out that spark of love that is within them. We seek to connect and develop that love through relationships as best we can understand them. Nevertheless, this is a daunting task even in the most supportive circles because we bear so much brokenness and it stunts our ability to cultivate love that nurtures and heals. However, brokenness has not stopped our efforts to deepen love nor will it ever. We join together each day seeking to live out God’s presence and love in this limited yet beautiful life.

This is the story of my growth in Christ and growth within the PC(USA). My church family has been the home I never had growing up. They showed me that more excellent way which included nurturing God’s calling within me to become a pediatric chaplain. Moreover, it is because of Christ’s healing love that I received through others that I was able to cultivate such a remarkable love with my wife Kim and become a parent to Susan.

I suppose that I am not writing this as much in response to the details of the committee’s report as I am in sadness that I must leave a church that always amazes me and fills me with awe. I read this report with tears streaming. Tears of gratitude for all the people I love and love me within the PC(USA). Tears of loss for hopes and dreams that were cultivated brought to fruition within the PC(USA). Tears for a future, at least for now, where I am no longer in the PC(USA). I grieve the loss of a home so beloved that it has taken me years to make the decision to leave.

This report and the committee behind it bear witness to what and who we are when we allow the diversity of the body to work through the Spirit. I am proud of the committee members and their work. Furthermore, I’m deeply grateful that for many same-gender couples, there is a place in the PC(USA) where relationship and connection within the body of Christ is held in higher esteem than conflict and misunderstanding. As we move forward, please know that my constant prayer is found in the committee’s words. “Together, we are the body of Christ, called to live into our Christ-reconciled life together, acting in a manner that lives out our confession ‘Those whom Christ has joined together, let no one separate.’” Amen

Link to preliminary report: http://www.pcusa.org/oga/newsstories/final-prelim-report-civil-union-marriage-spec-cmte-091809.pdf

Response by my friend and Covenant Network National Organizer Tricia Dykers Koenig: https://app.e2ma.net/app/view:CampaignPublic/id:10488.2407656093/rid:3dc4dabfe5bf4a1b5bc41bf718a351bf

Two Brothers and a Hope for Something New

There were two very influential theologians in the twentieth century named Reinhold Niebuhr and H. Richard Niebuhr. They were brothers whose works as Christian ethicists changed the landscape of the Protestant church. I’ve read a great deal from both of them yet I always prefer Reinhold Niebuhr’s conclusions and trajectory. In fact, I consider him my most influential ethicist and favorite theologian. But what I like most about him is not always what he said but that he said and did something. This brings me to my point in writing this.

I frequently have reflections on our experiences where I blend my deeply held religious beliefs, interest in history, and passionate love of life into an thought that I then verbally pass onto others. They often tell me that I should write these down to share with others. My boss is most adamant about this because she believes I have a way of explaining things that would truly help grieving parents (I am a pediatric chaplain). Nevertheless, I don’t write and share these ideas because I feel fearful of putting my ideas out there before they are well thought out and refined… which is another way of saying bulletproof.

This brings me back to the Niebuhr brothers. I was told by someone who actually knew them as well as a seminary professor of mine that the reason Reinhold Niebuhr wrote so much more prolifically than his brother is that he did not regret having to go back and say something to the effect of, “I’ve grown since I wrote that and I’ve changed my stance.” However, H. Richard Niebuhr would spend much more time pouring over his writings before letting anyone see them. He was certainly never confined by his need to “be sure” of what he was saying before putting it out in a public arena as he did produce and publish several books, articles, and letters. Yet, even in his political stances, he was still bound by this need to think, examine, and consider to the point of inaction or late action. Reinhold Niebuhr was not this way. He said boldly what he believed and acted out those ideals.

I want that boldness but more importantly, I want that humility. I want to start writing these experiences and reflections for myself as well as others. The more time I spend with others, the more important it seems to share these things with one another and not leave them locked away. So, please accept this as my foray into blogging on chaplaincy, life experiences, and revelations of the Spirit. I hope this is an experience of growth, developing connections, cultivating humility, and much more.