Showing posts with label Open and Affirming. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Open and Affirming. Show all posts

Wednesday, May 27, 2015

The Blessing of Being O&A: Advocacy and Incarnation

Advocacy. In a word, this is the blessing of being an Open and Affirming congregation. It's what sets O&A churches apart. It doesn't just mean everyone is welcome, if they choose to join us. It means we'll go be church most fully when we're outside our walls. It means we stand up for each other and never back down until the full equal dignity of each person is affirmed in the public square.

To be Open and Affirming means we stand up not only for those who are like us but those who broaden our sense of who "we" are. Being Open and Affirming dismantles the advocate/victim dichotomy. It picks apart the paternalistic care-giver/care-receiver attitude and declares that we're all in this together. No more we/they. No more gay Lazarus scrabbling for crumbs beneath Dives' straight table. From now on, "we" means more than it meant before. A place at the table set in the presence of enemies with whom we may yet become friends. A place at the table even in the valley of the shadow of death.

Too many churches suffer from the paternalistic attitude that "we" are here to help "them," where "we" are the sympathetic rich, healthy, white, straight followers of Jesus, and "them" means the people gospel calls us to serve: the abstract hungry, thirsty and oppressed minority, the sexually diverse, the "nones." As if "they" aren't already among "us." Sigh. This gets to the heart of the problem.

Jesus says he comes to bring good news to the poor, to proclaim release to captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free and proclaim the year of the Lord's favor. We can do that safely enough with ministries of checkbook and pen and feel pretty good about ourselves, without ever addressing the essential problem of human nature, our us/them tribalism, our insistence on being separate, destined, unique.

The thing is, when Jesus proclaims his calling, he can't just mail in a check or stand at a distance and talk. He comes. He doesn't wait for those he serves to come to him. If Incarnation means anything at all, it means Jesus enters into the reality he comes to reconcile. He breaks down the first person/third person divide. He takes the us/them of poverty, sickness, disability, and, yes, sexual injustice, and he walks in the midst of it all saying we're in this together. He doesn't ask, "Are you with me?" but declares, "I am with you." The first is just recruiting. The second is advocacy. Even when he says, "Follow me," Jesus doesn't recruit. He invites us to find our wider voice.

Incarnation means God "the Father" sets aside paternalism. No more condescension, no more patriarchy, but "he walks with me and talks with me": now a Paraclete coming alongside us, transforming human relationships by means of equal justice and unconditional love.

The O&A church knows in its bones the experience of Incarnation. It feels in its heart that there is no "we" inside the church serving the likes of "them," outside, somehow objectified and made the recipients of our magnanimity and public policy work. It means we move the boundaries of who we think we mean when we say "we." When we advocate, speaking truth to power, we aren't speaking out on behalf of some abstract third person we call them. We are finding our new voice as a broader we, a voice truer to God's heart and more inclusive than before.

Being Open and Affirming means we speak up and speak out, yes, for GLBT sisters and brothers, not apart from who we are but because we now know we are one. We straight, we gay, we lesbian, we bisexual, we transgendered, we questioning and queer, we who embody Jesus' incarnation as fully as a community can so that dividing walls come tumbling Jericho-like down, became a wider, deeper more radically inclusive "we." 

After all, we really are all in this business of life together as God's beloved daughters and sons. Becoming Open and Affirming, we become Advocates for ourselves, because we realize we are infinitely more than we ever imagined. We are the Incarnate, Infinite, Embodied, Communitied, Holy Oneness of God.

Thursday, April 18, 2013

A day in the life (or at least a morning)

5:00 a.m. Alarm. Calendar check. Big day ahead. Gotta get Katy to the airport and Jackson to school in time to finish homework, then arrange lawn care and landscaping for the house nobody has bought from us in Lynchburg, and get myself to the Capitol in St. Paul. The Marriage Equality Lobby Day and Rally is today. Must remember my stole.

6:00 a.m. Morning rush was compressed. Fast showers, lunch made, school things gathered, coffee poured, weather checked. We're nearly ready to get out the door. Last minute didjas (didja take your allergy meds, didja get money for dinner, didja...) done. C'mon! Let's go!

7:00 a.m. Both drop-offs went cleanly. Airport, school. Checking in now on Foursquare at Dunn Brothers Coffee. Time for another calendar check. Then a moment to explain.

Here we are, nearly 24 years into our marriage, with fifteen years of parenting and several moves under our belts. Each day we three depend on each other. It's like a dance where we've learned the steps by doing them, stepped on each other's toes more than once, and once in a while stepped back to listen to the rhythm of it all. It's what families do.

By now, Katy's settling in at the gate waiting on her plane to board, Jackson's in the school library printing out his homework, and I'm taking a few minutes to collect myself. Each of us is launching into the day. And the foundation of it all is the mad rush of the family dance.

There are some things we count on as we navigate the next steps:

  • each other's trust and unconditional love
  • the support of our wider family
  • gainful employment
  • a loving, safe, Open and Affirming church
There are other things, of course: breathable air, clean water, healthy food, stable government, good schools... We don't take any of these for granted.

But the thing that holds together the dance, that gives our steps purpose and meaning, is the church. As Open and Affirming, the church is the community that shares with glbtq families as it does with allies like us the good news that, no matter what, we are loved and accepted. For all its faults, the church is where we hear the story that God loves us, treasures our good relationships, encourages in our own busyness and in our ministry with others. It's where we know people will be there for us, and we'll be there for them.

We usually take this for granted, as much as any pastor's family can. But many families cannot.

That's really what being Open and Affirming is all about. Not just tolerating each other's existence or grudgingly acknowledging someone else's rights. It's about standing up for each other because Christ stands up for us. Honoring each other's journey. Resolute in faith and trust. Vulnerable yet strong. And in all things, all things: Love.

When the dance spins wildly and the day seems out of control (here comes Katy's text: flight delayed, ugh), we know we're part of something larger than ourselves. We need to know this, deep in our bones. It's become unfathomable to me how any church can still deny that every family, every individual belongs.

8:00 a.m. Still, there's work to do. It's time to call Virginia Garden Supply for bedding plants before the next open house back in Lynchburg this weekend. Then I'm off to the Capitol in St. Paul to stand with other clergy in support of a marriage equality bill moving through the legislature.

It's good to know Spirit of Joy doesn't just tolerate what I do but sees my advocacy as part of its ministry. Our family depends on such love and trust. We're grateful to be part of it. After all, it's what Open and Affirming churches do.