O Come, O Come, Emmanuel into my grief

I have a heavy heart. It has been a full week of processing, celebrating communion and Christ among us, and grieving the loss of Facebook from my life. I keep thinking of things I'd like to post or share, including a request for prayers for the outcome of the procedure I had Tuesday morning (a scope down my throat to check out my gut!).

There has been so much grieving in the last few weeks as a nation. Grieving the chasm between Americans who find themselves on different sides of the political line. It should not matter as we come together in church. Church is the place where our identity is first and foremost "child of God." The rest falls away as we sit side by side in the pews, share the peace, and take wafer and wine together at the table.

It's the End of Facebook as I Know It and We'll Be Fine

Raise your hand if you are sick of the hearing about the election and president elect! *everyone raises hand*

It has been two solid weeks of grief for me. There are bright spots to be sure. Handing out communion and telling person after person (both in their homes and at church) that THIS is the body of Christ broken for them - well there is something very healing in that. An awareness that God is here with us in this muck and mire.

In my grief, I composed a sermon that spoke to my fears for those who are marginalized. I spoke about my love for my little Godson who is biracial and family members who are biracial or black. I spoke from the heart. For some, it was exactly what they needed to hear. People pointed to their safety pins on their shirts during the peace or gave me big hugs as they left the sanctuary after worship. On Monday, I waited in my office for the phone calls. Nothing. Tuesday? Still nothing. No emails. I relaxed a little. Perhaps it was received in the intention it was given. I was getting only good feedback! Even feedback from the retired pastor in my congregation who said he thought it was an excellent sermon and was heartfelt.

Until today, when I learned that some people heard only hate and blame in that sermon. They felt as if I discredited all the praying and soul searching they did before they voted as well as all the ways they daily promote love and tolerance and acceptance and had for years.

This was not my intention. But I cannot blame them for hearing the sermon this way. While I'm always very careful what I say in my sermons and in conversation with people, I've felt freer to share things on Facebook, trusting that people knew it was food for thought - things calling all people to condemn hatred, posts celebrating steps President Elect Trump has made for good, and so on. However, for some, this was not only unhelpful, it was their pastor waving a big liberal flag and whacking them on the head with it. NOT GOOD.

I've been asked to withhold my political views from FB for the time being. I've been asked before. Twice. So their worries were justified when I amped up my FB posts after the election. The posting was done out of fear for a country that would follow the path of Germany in allowing the atrocities of Nazism. The posting was done in response to a call from marginalized friends and strangers to speak out against the hate. The actual result? Likes from friends who agreed. Alienation and hurt from those who did not.

So I'm done with FB. I grieve this loss but have tried before to post only the bright, furry things of my world. It feels inauthentic and plastic and is not the kind of presence I want to have on FB. I'm choosing to pull back from social media and focus on my congregation where I have been called. Focus on conveying a message of inclusivity, collective action, and sharing God's great, big, wide, huge, gigantic love for all of us - one that people can actually hear no matter where on the political spectrum they sit, especially if it differs from their pastor.

Looking Back

From an old blog of mine, written in November 2010:

"Internship will be an uncomfortable year. Neither good nor bad but uncomfortable. 

I'm wondering if this is really our call as Christians, especially as pastors and ministers. Ministry is quite frankly, the most uncomfortable thing I've ever done. It pushes me to deal with everything that blocks me from living the gospel and loving people. I am hesitant to admit those issues seem numerous. 

I don't have it all together. I don't have it all figured out. And what's worse? I never will. There will never come a time when I will say, "Yup. I've figured it all out." Does it say anything about me that this is in any way surprising or frustrating? 

Or perhaps something about my theology that I want to be in control and be perfect? I wish that weren't the case but the indicators point to "true." So I'm uncomfortable. Trying to figure out how to have a little more grace with myself about who God made me to be... and who I am."

And now in 2015, I still struggle to have grace with myself and all the things that I am not good at, that I am still figuring out. In ministry, pastors get real in touch with the things they are NOT good at. People point out our flaws and failings even as others celebrate our gifts. True humility is holding them both together, the saint and the sinner as Luther would say.

As we look back on the life of a dear friend and colleague this week at Bethel, it is easy to see the amazing ways that he has touched so many lives. But we also know he was not perfect. He had quirks and character flaws and his own special way of organizing that will never completely make sense to another living soul.

And we love him. Just as he was. This, for me, is a very special dose of grace.

Thank you Duane for your life, ministry, and friendship. You will be missed.