Moving with Jesus

Moving from Virginia to Minnesota is no simple thing. And I don't just mean the climate changes. There's the physical stuff: packing boxes, sorting stuff. Every item came into our lives somehow, and usually there's a memory attached. So there's emotional baggage to sort through, too. As boxes and tape run out, memories renew.

Don't get me wrong. The physical work means inhaling insulation from the attic, stiff muscles in the morning, multiple showers throughout the day. And emotional work is significant. I found myself nearly in tears while disassembling Jackson's loft, which was made from the bunk bed that was his first "big kid" bed, the site of countless nights of story, prayer, and song. 

But I'm thinking tonight of the spiritual work of moving. The part where you look for Jesus and wonder about what it means to follow someone who you know is only going to take you to the cross. Sure, there will be wonderful encounters where wholeness happens, when there's room at the table for a stranger to become a friend. There will be water into wine, explosions of extraordinary grace and joy. And there will be moments that go the other direction and turn wine into ordinary water. Sad but true

Moving is essentially a spiritual activity. You trust that someone, even God perhaps, is walking with you. You discover in someone else's kindness, which in your emotional limbo you're fairly sure you don't deserve, a good you don't expect is there.

You develop a healthy relationship with stuff. A kind of unattached attachment. You like the things you call your own, but discover you can live without them. You're glad to have the comfort of a familiar tie or painting, but realize it doesn't make you who you are.

Jesus was a wanderer, it seems, itinerant. He called disciples who wouldn't stay one place for long. Did he anticipate our consumer culture, when he told his followers to take nothing with them (advice I'm not sure how to follow)? And what of his admission that the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head?

There's something to this journey that is decidedly uncomfortable. I want to grasp the future, hold tomorrow in my hand. But in my day-to-day discipleship I marvel at the trust it takes to walk with Jesus, ours in him of course, but also his in us. 

In between...

Blessings and peace,

The morning after

Now that Governor Dayton is about to sign into law the bill that includes same-sex couples in the state's definition of marriage, a lot of us are celebrating. The roar in the Capitol rotunda on Monday was amazing! It could be heard in every back office and conference room on every floor of the building. It's a beautiful day when God's eternal grace breaks through the particularity of our time. Moments like these are pure crystals refracting rainbows of light into every dark corner of the world.

I want to bask in the glow for a while.

The thing is, I'm not very good as basking. I can't shake the conversation I had on my way up the Capitol steps. I had dropped Jackson off so he could get in the middle of it all while I went to  park. As I crossed the street, I came up alongside a woman who glanced at my blue "Vote No: Don't Limit the Freedom to Marry" shirt left over from the amendment campaign in November.

"I like your shirt," she said. 

"Thanks," I said, "I'm so excited about today. As a pastor, I'm really happy we're about to do the right thing in this state."

She looked at my shirt again and must have realized the No on it was about last fall's amendment to limit marriage to one man, one woman, not on the marriage bill that was about to pass.

"You're a pastor?" she asked. I nodded, proudly. Her voice turned cold, "Then how can you possibly support this sin?" Yow. That was when I realized she'd misread my shirt.

By now we were at the steps of the Capitol building. She launched in. "I don't know how the gays can adopt the rainbow as their symbol. You know what it stands for?" As I started to reply, she continued, "God was so mad about sexual sins, corruption, perversity, and disobedience that he found the one righteous man living and saved him from the flood." I tried again to interrupt, but she kept going. "The rainbow is the sign of God's divine judgment on their sins and a warning against those who keep sinning."

I replied, "Don't you think the rainbow is a sign of God's promise never again to destroy creation? Isn't it a sign of unconditional love and grace?"

"How sad that you're a pastor," she said. "Satan has blinded you to God's word. Just wait. God has terrible things in store for us. You'll see God's judgment coming on us soon."

We parted ways.

Business professionals tout the benefits of the walking meeting, and Aaron Sorkin popularized it on his TV show West Wing. Decisions are made on the fly. Dialogue sparkles. But the walking meeting is a lousy way to listen to each other and discover in the conversation someone's true humanity. It lends itself to stating opinions and positions. It doesn't help anyone connect.

I kind of wish the two of us had given time and attention to each other, but of course that's not why either of us was there. I was there to celebrate, she to chasten, to pray for what she would have considered a miracle, and perhaps to mourn. 

In the weeks and months to come, I trust that many of those who mourn what Minnesota did yesterday will come to see marriage equality as the blessing it is. I have no doubt the light of love will shine.  But for now I wonder if I missed an opportunity to experience God's grace in the dignity and integrity of a genuine connection with a hurting human being. Did I miss the chance to embody and experience God's love by listening to another person's anger and pain? The chance will come again, no doubt. 

For now, I really am basking in a great justice being done. This is a banner day for Minnesota, as the Governor prepares to sign full marriage equality into law in a few hours. I am proud to be a pastor who serves a church that speaks out for the fullness of human dignity for everyone. I only hope I won't let basking turn to gloating. I can rejoice in the good we've done without taking joy in someone else's pain.

I just heard last night that a group of pastors is planning to assemble on August 1 to officiate at free public weddings. I hope to join them that day in the warmth of the sun and the rainbow refractions of God's unconditional love.

Blessings and Peace,

David