About Last Night

I am thankful for friends, who let me absorb some of my shock in their home. It gave me enough air that when I was called to go to Mad Myrna's by another friend, I could go. Because if you're called to the gay bar on election night because people are crying and want to talk, you put your shoes back on and your glasses and you go. I went as a pastor, but a friend also said, "We need you as a human being."

And so I went. And I listened. And I was sober like a rock because I can't drink right now. 

There was laughter and crying. 

And then the thing that blew me away: a guy I had met earlier because he came with some friends to Election Day Communion leaned his head in to talk to me. 

"Tonight was my first experience with Christianity. It was really nice. Really welcoming and helpful. I liked it," he said. 

Election Night Communion at Lutheran Church of Hope in Anchorage, AK was his first experience with Christianity. I don't know if that meant ever in a church. I am sure it meant he had his first communion since I didn't skip him. It was small group on what turned out to be a hard night where no partisan language was shared and where we laughed and sighed and shared Jesus. 

I think my eyes were the size of peaches when I replied, "Thank you for trusting us." 

"It was really good," he said again. 

I hugged and was hugged. I listened to a long lecture on Trotskyism. When Mike Pence came, there was literal wailing and gnashing of teeth. The pain in the room- the screaming and real grief- was such that the bartender turned the channel to HGTV. In that space, we needed to turn away from the man who hasn't renounced conversion therapy to the mundane nature of two people building a house. 

There was real pain, real grief, real fear. 

And in that space I just listened. 

At one point, a guy was talking to a group of people about why we can't get along. Not asking, he was explaining why- at length. I was next to him, but he never ever looked at me. Finally he said, "Why don't we rise up?" 

"Because you can't see me," I volunteered. He turned to me, "You're right. I don't see you. I didn't. And, normally, I wouldn't at all, but I do tonight." 

Tonight I was part of someone's first experience with Christianity. And I was part of one man's recognition of how he looks at the world. And a Trump voter in my congregation texted me amid all this and said, "God Bless America." 

Who don't I see? What do I assume about the people in front of me in any place, especially in church? What do I say to someone who chortles, purposely, at my pain and that of others? 

It's been a long day. A painful day. A prayerful day. 

And I ache because there are a lot of hurting people right now. And I'm not going to say that it will be okay because I don't know that it will. 

Yes, on a theologically cosmic level, it will. But if I learned anything from Ezekiel, Daniel, and Revelation, it's that it can really suck on the way. 

It's late (or early) and I'm going to bed. Tomorrow I might be someone else's first experience with Christianity and I better rest up for it.

Decolonize16: First Debrief

As soon as the #decolonizeLutheranism hashtag began to be used on Facebook and Twitter, I was in and involved. It was like jumping into a river and realizing that I could swim better than I thought I

Candle station for prayer at conference

could. The impetus behind the movement is to separate North American Lutheranism from being considered interchangeable with Mid-Western, primarily imported Scandinavian, culture and cuisine. By "decolonizing" or separating Lutheranism from that context, the people in and behind (and ahead of) the movement hope to release and refine our theological and biblical commitments toward inclusion, welcome, understanding, and embracing the height and depth and breadth of the love of God in the world.

The initial conference of this movement was on 10/23/16 at the Lutheran School of Theology in Chicago. It's a long way to for an Alaskan, but I couldn't stay away. Once some of my friends knew I was coming, they signed up too. Thus, I had reunions, reconnections, and reformation (of the current church) all in a day. What a day.

The framework of the conference was sections of the Augsburg Confession pared with seasons of the church year. We heard small sermons or sharing and then had small groups to talk about our reactions and our thoughts. I'm still thinking about so many things, but here's my first thought:

Nice is the law and honesty is the gospel. 

Lutherans have a very specific way of thinking about the words "law" and "gospel". The law is anything, anywhere in Scripture (or in the world), that reminds and makes us glaringly aware of our need for God, God's work in Christ, and the aid of the Spirit. The gospel is the glad tidings anywhere in Scripture (or in the world) of how God is already aware of our need and is ahead of us, behind us, and within us- bringing us into the reality of our salvation through grace and the on-going truth of our sanctification.

In my small group, we talked about how people we know (including ourselves) resist the hard work of combatting racism, sexism, anti-LGBTQ behavior, and cultural appropriation without appreciation.   One person in the group asked if we could figure out how to use the framework of law and gospel as part of this work. I thought of my own work around "being honest, not good". I'm not a liar, but in general- my desire to be liked, efficient, and good means that I don't always own up to my own feelings, reactions, and perceptions.

In order to decolonize Lutheranism, we must stop the idolatry of "nice" and "good". We can no longer excuse that racist jokes are "just how so-an-so talks". We can't pretend it's okay to ask a queer couple if we could just not mention their wedding in the announcement or on the church calendar like we do for other couples. We can't ignore that there are women, people of color, and LGBTQ individuals who are gifted from God, but are ignored for call and service in this church and- if they get called- are held to a much higher and more scrutinized standard of behavior.

Nice and good behavior asks for there not to be so much fuss about this. Niceness says, "It's been that way for a long time and change is hard." Good behavior accepts being a token, being diminished, being ignored as part of what it means to be a child of God in a certain context.

No.

I said, NO.

No more.

No more "nice", No more "good".

When my therapist told me that I needed to work on "being honest and not good", I looked her in the eye and said "Honesty is not one of the fruits of the Spirit."

But are we really being kind without honesty? Does true generosity exist without honesty? Can we truly love without honesty?

In order to decolonize Lutheranism, we must begin a full-throated, full-bodied, and fully embodied embrace of honesty. We have to die to nice and good and be aware of how God is resurrecting us to honesty in Christ. We have to be willing to say what is obvious, what hurts, and what needs to be done. We have to be willing to sit with the pain of complicity, the reality of what we can and can't fix, and the emptiness of the seats of those who will refuse to do this work. We have to be willing to make changes and re-think how our work as congregations looks, sounds, and feels even before we believe it "applies" to anyone already there.

And we don't do it so that "others" will come. We do it so that we can be a church, the church, churches who are actively teaching and learning how to live and how to die in Jesus Christ. We do it because it is, honestly, the right thing to do.

Ask A Pastor Anything

In preparing for our church's booth for Anchorage Pridefest, we made this sign. It was meant to be more tongue-in-cheek than fundraiser. We laughed and even the church visitors who saw it chuckled.

Once it was out of the church building, though, it didn't get many laughs. In fact, it received a lot of frowns. "I have a question," one guy said. "But I don't want to pay." 

It occurred to me that many people who are outside of the church often assume the main motive of the church is to make money. We weren't winning friends here; we were ending conversations before they started.

I covered the "pricing" with paper and tape. Once all that could be seen was "Ask a Pastor Anything", the questions flowed. 

Today, I listened to the following questions, some accompanying stories, and did my best to represent a flawed institution and a perfect God.

What does faith mean to you?

What's a pastor?

Do I have to believe everything exactly right first?

How do I know if I am gay or straight?

Is there a trans-friendly church in Anchorage?

What do you think about hell?

How do I talk to my parents about who I am?

How do I let go of a hurtful past in the church?

How do I start to pray?

Who can help me with my housing situation?

How do I begin to hope again?

Do you have on-line services? 

Where are the porta-potties?

Will I ever feel at peace in a church again? 

With other people from Lutheran Church of Hope, we handed out stickers, apology cards, and bubbles. We listened, laughed, prayed, and represented. We said "I don't know" and "I am sorry" and "You are loved". 

Someone gave us a dollar. 

It was worth it. 

Jesus Will Not Be Pimped

In March 2012, I attended a conference at which Congressman Emmanuel Cleaver II was the keynote speaker. For the record, Congressman Cleaver can P.R.E.A.C.H. He spoke about the current budget crisis in our government, the changes in how congressional leaders relate to and communicate with one another, and the responsibility of all citizens to care about how our money is used. At one point in the sermon keynote address, Cleaver spoke vociferously against people who loosely talk about "God on their side" or who choose to ignore the plight of struggling people, but speak of Jesus' approval and how Jesus has brought them success. While ignoring Jesus' teaching, they give him credit for their success and expect him to continue to deliver. However, said Cleaver, "Jesus will not be pimped."

Jesus will not be pimped.

Can I hear an amen?

Preach it, Brother Cleaver. We cannot ignore Jesus' plain teaching about loving our neighbor, about dropping our throwin' stones, about drawing all people to God, about lifting women and children and outcasts of all types, about understanding that kingdom of God is at hand. We cannot ignore those things, but expect the name of Jesus to bring us political victory, economic victory, religious victory.

Jesus will not be pimped.

In Anchorage this week, there was an election fiasco of historical proportions. Many precincts ran out of ballots, which meant that some people did not get to vote or voted on questioned/questionable ballots. Was there an unexpected number of voters? Maybe. This was an election for mayor and there were several ballot propositions up for consideration. Proposition Five proposed to add "same-sex orientation" and "transgendered identity" to the city's non-discrimination clause. Proposition Five did not pass, by a large margin. My heart aches.

I was part of campaigning for Proposition Five. Yes on Five. I did public work and I did some private negotiating and conversations with people I know and love, but would not normally be inclined to vote yes on this kind of thing. Some people changed their votes. One person was willing to leave the prop blank, unable to vote yes, but willing to not vote no.

Some of the rhetoric from both sides was harsh. However, from my perspective, the No on Five crowd was particularly vitriolic with pastors using the pulpit to spread false information about homosexuals (uncited and incorrect statistics regarding suicide, child abuse, and crime), conflating transgendered identity with transvestitism (not the same at all), spreading incorrect and damaging information about how Prop 5 would affect churches, and using nebulous phrases like "protect your rights" without clarifying the rights that were "threatened".*

The use of church time, pulpit authority, and church dollars to spread discrimination in the public sector is abhorrent to me. Using the name of Jesus to keep people in the dark of discrimination with regard to jobs, housing, and services is shameful. People are hurting and churches have kicked them when they're down, in the name of Jesus. And these same churches will be touting how Jesus brought them victory.

Jesus will not be pimped.

Why am I writing this on Good Friday? Because it's on this day of all days that we tend to hear about the idea that humanity was (and is) so terrible that God had to send his Son to die for all, but the death (and resurrection) only brings redemption to those who believe. God was/is so angry, so hates the people of the world, that the only satisfaction that would work to satisfy God's angry need for an appropriate sacrifice that is for the Son to come, live as a human,  and then die in a horrible way for all the sins that have been and will ever be committed.

I don't think so.

Jesus will not be pimped. Not even by the Father.

The attempt to snuff the Second Person of the Trinity, the Death of Jesus, the Murder of the Messiah comes at the hands of people. People who thought they could force God into acting (I'm looking at you, Jewish Zealots of the Roman occupation). People who thought that the Messiah would look a certain way and Jesus was a blasphemer (if not a threat to their power). (I'm looking at you, chief priests and scribes). People who were scared and uncertain and who had little power, even to try to prevent what was happening (I'm looking at you, disciples who steal away in the dark of the garden).

People killed Jesus for a variety of reasons, but

Jesus will not be pimped.

God acted (and acts) in spite of human actions, with their myriad causes, to bring resurrection- life, hope, and the reality of forgiveness. Forgiveness doesn't require substitution. Forgiveness is about a clean slate, fresh linen, an empty tomb.

Jesus will not be pimped.

If our work in Jesus' name is not the work of caring, loving, healing, restoration, clarity, forgiveness... if it's not work Jesus would recognize as his own... we better be careful to whom we attribute the victory.

It's a bleak day, but resurrection is coming and it looks exactly how God wants it to look...  and not how any of us define.

Jesus will not be pimped.









*I carefully wrote this sentence because of how No on Five people took sentences and thoughts of Yes on Five people out of context.