"Cheers to the Resistance"

Ok, hear me out. I just watched Taylor Swift’s Netflix documentary; “Miss Americana,” and I have much to say…and it’s not all about Taylor.

I begin by saying “hear me out” because though many of you know that I am a Taylor Swift fan… what I am going to say is (hopefully) going to speak both to those who are fans with me as well as those who are not.

“Miss Americana” is a well-documented glimpse into Taylor Swift’s journey as a female singer/songwriter who has worked very hard to get where she is today. It is also a stark example of what it looks like to speak truth to power. 

The documentary details the shift in Swift’s public persona going from “people pleasing” to a type of truth telling that allowed her to live more authentically. In doing so, continually educating herself on matters that affect the lives of us all, she has been able to share her findings publicly. She has directed attention to how much of what she has seen and experienced coming especially from those in positions of power is counter to the values she holds… the values which many of us hold. 

And, as if too often the case, as she pulls the curtain away and exposes the injustice seated firmly in positions of power on both the state and national levels, she then becomes the target for those who have much to lose if the truth takes hold.

Swift made a potentially career-threatening decision to bring politics into her work because she couldn’t be silent any longer. The lives of too many people were being affected in negative ways, and she needed to do what she could to change that.

It is that fire, that passion, that unwillingness to live the status quo that fueled Swift and fuels us in the ways that we speak up for ourselves and for others when being wronged. And it is that fire that far too many others seek to douse with lies and character smears and sometimes even with violence. 

I’ve experienced it and I’m sure many of you have as well.

When advocating for basic human rights for others, we’ve been labeled as “socialists,” “snowflakes,” and my least favorite; “libtards.” We’ve been called names instead of being invited into legitimately respectful dialogue on issues that affect us all. 

That shouldn’t stop us. 

When calling out injustice in broken systems, we’ve been attacked, dismissed, gaslighted and threatened if we don’t remain silent. 

That shouldn’t stop us.

When in the presence of others who live loudly their ignorance (in its true definition), their racism, their misogyny, we are often overpowered by voices much louder than our own. 

And that shouldn’t stop us either. 

We cannot stop being bothered by the wrong we witness.

We cannot stop speaking the truth to power.

We cannot stop fueling the fires within us that are burning for change.

And as Taylor Swift models in her documentary and in her life… we cannot stop reinventing ourselves for the sole reason that it makes others uncomfortable. There are facets within us that are vital to living out our truth, our authentic selves… and they must be incorporated into our public selves. 

And yes, there is a cost associated with making others uncomfortable… a cost associated with calling out the wrong in the world. 

There is also a cost for remaining silent. 

I’m willing to incur a cost that is challenging for me and my life if it means that others are able to live more authentically, to live without fear, to live fully and beautifully in a world that affirms their worth. That makes it all worth while.

Are you willing to incur the cost as well?

Let’s do this work!

Let’s get called some names.

Let’s acknowledge when we are being dismissed and gaslighted.

Let’s strengthen our voices and speak the truth so loudly that the lies and the hurtful taunts are heard only in the minds of those unwilling to listen to anything other than their own point of view.

Let’s reinvent ourselves using the fire burning deep within us for justice and change to forge a new way of being, a new way of living. 

We can no longer be silent. Because far too many lives depend us.

Continue to speak the truth to power.

Continue to reinvent, reorient yourself toward change.

Continue to challenge the status quo.

It is the only way that things will ever change.

“Cheers to the resistance.” 

Oh, and Taylor fan or not... watch the documentary. Let me know what you think.

I met Jesus... again

It shouldn't come as a surprise, although it does... that I once again found myself sitting down for a conversation with Jesus.  

Now, before you think I've gone off my rocker... hear me out!

The Jesus with whom I was meeting looked little like any of the "blue-eyed, blonde-haired" images of Jesus we so often see... fair skin, white, European. This man, instead showed some darker features, beginning with his eyes and hair and then even his skin was a bit... Mediterranean. He looked to be about the same age as Jesus when he was at the height of his ministry. And something about his appearance gives the message that he's worked hard up until this point in his life... perhaps not carpentry, but some sort of physical labor for sure.

As we spoke, that hunch became truth. The Jesus before me is a seasonal worker, mostly landscaping, and with cooler temperatures upon us and the snow beginning to pile up, the employment he holds has dried up for the season and he's finding himself on hard times.

This young father came to me, in part, because we had met previously... when times had become difficult and the needs of his family were challenging to meet. He came to our church previously and again this time because something in our culture, for the churched and the unchurched, still says that the church is a place to seek refuge and resources. He came to us looking for help... and I'm glad he did.

I am glad to have had the opportunity to reconnect, to check in on how his family is doing. I am also glad that he felt comfortable enough to return. And I am pleased because as I said in the beginning, seeing this man was as if I was meeting Jesus... again. 

I say again because I have had many other times when someone has been seated across from me sharing their story, their desires, and their needs. And in many of those conversations, I thankfully have noticed how something within me opens up to the experience. Something draws me closer to the one with whom I'm speaking. Something fends off any doubt or cynicism I may feel as they unpack their story for me, and I am able to be fully present, fully trusting, fully in awe of what a holy experience it really is.

I say "holy" because to be invited into someone's story, to have them resting in a truly vulnerable state in hopes of making a connection is a moment that only God can orchestrate. 

And this time of year, with the Christmas holiday approaching, it can seem like more and more folks are coming forward to share their stories. 

Granted, sometimes the stories are recycled or fabricated. Sometimes the stories shift a bit in the details as they are told from one church to the next. Sometimes they are so far-fetched that my brain would hurt from just trying to piece the disconnected elements together. And yet... fabricated stories have a place too. Because, in many cases, they come as part of the survival skills the storyteller has gained in order to get by.

In this case, specifically, Jesus was telling the truth... as I would expect him to do.

He didn't fabricate a story of great illness or significant circumstances. 

He wasn't crafting a story that he thought I would want to hear in order to help him.

He looked me in the eye and told me the truth. And that truth is... his work has ended, and his family is hurting.

So, I did as any of us would do... I sought out a collection of resources that might help to ease a bit of his family's burden, fully knowing that these resources were not solutions to his circumstances and would also not last a family of five very long. Yet it was a start.

And, it was Jesus... embodied in what some would consider to be "one of the least of these." 

Jesus came to me that day as a reminder... that there are folks in our communities who are genuinely in need and they are having to put themselves in very vulnerable places in order to gain access to resources that have been out of their reach.

Jesus came to me that day to show me that sometimes it's the connection, not the resources shared, that makes the difference. Making someone feel welcome. Letting them know there is no judgment. Believing in them. Trusting them. All of these things and more are what create the bedrock of significant relationship that goes far beyond a transactional moment.

Jesus came to me that day, I believe, so that I could be reminded and so that I could remind others that we are all in this together. 

This young father with three children (ages 7, 6 and 1) has the same needs as I do, the same needs as you and your family. He and his family need food. They need to keep paying the rent. They need to provide the basic necessities for the family... and, I would suggest, find ways to enjoy this season and create good memories for their children.

It is my hope that as we stay in contact (only possible because Jesus gave me his cell phone number), this young father and I will be able to assess those needs and pair them with resources available in our community. 

It is also my hope that this encounter will remain with me as I navigate Advent and arrive at Christmas once again so that I may not forget what it was like for Mary and Joseph in those days leading up to the birth of their child. A young family in need of basic necessities... food and lodging... and under extraordinary circumstances, a place where their child would be born. 

Jesus' birth was surrounded by stories of community support, vulnerability and holy moments. 

I pray we can be part of reliving that experience in our community this day.

Blessed Advent to All! May Jesus find a way to enter into your life in these busy, busy days. May you look into his eyes and give thanks for the opportunity to be in his presence once again.

And may it change you... and change the world through you.

Blessings,

Pastor Timoth

If you'd like to hear more about this young family and the experiences I've had in getting to know them, please let me know. I'm always happy to talk with others about my experiences with Jesus.

I Pledge My Allegiance...

I’ve appreciated this image for some time.

Painted on the pages of a Christian bible, the stars and stripes almost blot out one of the vital moments in Jesus’ story. If you look close enough, you can still make it out...

“Then Pilate took Jesus and had him flogged.”

The image speaks to me of the unhealthy connection drawn by so many between the Christian faith and patriotism. And how some people’s patriotism takes precedence over, and at times blots out, the absolute truth given us in Christ’s Gospel...that when the Empire is corrupt, to speak against it will be at least unpopular, at most deadly.

Many of the modern-day institutions we’ve created represent the Empire against which Jesus spoke and organized.

The movement of Jesus-followers then and now is given clear directives as to what institutions/systems warrant respect and support...as well as which ones do not.

We are asked to consider:

Does that which we support embody unconditional love of neighbor?
Does it seek to do no harm?
Does the institution we celebrate provide and promote freedom for all?
   Freedom from oppression?
   Freedom from discrimination?
   Freedom from injustice?

If we answer “no” to even one of these questions we must reconsider our alliance, our allegiance and speak out for change.

And yes, it’s risky.
It’s unpopular.
It’s dangerous.

And, it’s necessary.

On this day, the day when those in our nation are invited to celebrate freedom... I recognize our right to express freely that which we believe and to support freely that to which we pledge allegiance.

And I exercise that right to say that as long as the US Empire continues to deny justice to our neighbors...
as long as it seeks to cause more harm than good...
as long as racism, xenophobia, sexism, Islamophobia, homophobia, classism exists...
as long as the loudest voices continue to spread fear and hatred instead of love and justice...

I will work for change.
I will speak out against the Empire.
I will engage in difficult (respectful) dialogues to ensure that the truth is not blotted out.

And I’m sure I’ll pay the price for it.

Yet I’d rather be mocked for doing what is right than standing silent and letting evil prevail.

I’m pretty clear as to where I pledge my allegiance. How about you?

I was a United Methodist

Around the time I was in Middle School, a group of my friends were participating in a local church's youth group and had invited me to join them. Now, I wasn't much for church at that time so the acceptance of their invitation was purely based on the opportunity to spend more time outside of my home.

Involvement in the youth group led to registering for something called "Confirmation Camp," a week-long experience that somehow brought me into membership with my local United Methodist Church. I say "somehow" because that week couldn't have been more unique. Yes, I'm sure there were plenty of songs that were sung and stories that were told that resonated with those who found God to be an anchor in their lives. However, for young Timoth, the week was less about a connection with God and more about just having fun.

It was at that camp that I learned how to have wet toilet paper fights. I learned how to wear a toga. And the highlight of the week was learning that when you spray Right Guard deodorant onto a chalkboard and light it on fire, it creates a tear-shaped flame. (Why my parents ever allowed me out of the house is a question I still ask myself... LOL).

Following my week at camp, my time in the United Methodist Church was fairly short-lived...not because of the Right Guard incident, however, that seems like a good excuse as any. No, my time there was short because I wasn't ready. I had known something about myself for a few years leading up to that time... something that appeared to be incompatible with the teachings of the church. I knew that I was gay and I wasn't sure that I could tell anyone... especially in the church.

So I left. I wandered a spiritual wilderness for nearly the next decade until I met a young couple...the pastor of a local United Methodist Church and his wife. They were charismatic, friendly and deeply faithful... and my being drawn to them led me back into the church as well as into an opportunity to serve as a counselor at a United Methodist Camp.

No togas or flames this time. However, I was still unsure as to my level of acceptance. So I asked for a meeting with the pastor.

Standing in his office, I asked Paul, the pastor; "What does the church say about homosexuality?" It was the first time I had said that word out loud... not to myself, not to any family members... I said it to a pastor of a church in which I had found myself unsure as to what would happen when I heard the answer.

Over the years, I have often remarked on how powerful that moment was for me in living into my true identity as a gay man... and as someone who gave church another try.

In response to my inquiry, Paul said to me; "Do you want to know what the church says... or what I say?"

In an instant I knew that I was loved and valued as the person God had created me to be... and that I found myself within an institution that wasn't quite there yet. I felt relief. I felt love. I felt promise.

Fast forward many years. I'm now an ordained Christian pastor in the United Church of Christ... a denomination that has been ordaining members of the queer community for several decades. I am reminded continually that I am a beloved child of God, created in God's image, and that I have dignity and respect within a denomination that has been ahead of the curve on affirming folks like me for quite some time.

I am home!

This past week, as many of you may have witnessed, our Christian siblings in the United Methodist Church have found themselves in the midst of a deeply challenging conversation. Within the UMC, the topics of Same Sex Marriage and Ordination of LGBTQ+ individuals have come before the global church for consideration and ultimately, decisions are being made...decisions that question and deny the basic human dignity of those created to be LGBTQ+.

Though I love being part of the UCC, I know that there are many who love being United Methodist. And although my heart breaks at the church's recent process and the harm it continues to inflict upon my queer, Christian siblings... I pledge to honor and respect the decisions of those in the UMC if they choose to remain in their once-beloved church. I'm not going to suggest they flee to the UCC or other denominations that have been doing the difficult work of full inclusion for some time. In part, because none of us are doing it to the extent to which Jesus would have envisioned.

What I will say is that if or when those who can no longer remain within the UMC find their way to the doors of the church I now call home... for a period of rest and renewal or for the duration... we will open the doors wide and offer them welcome.

We will be a place of refuge along the way.
We will provide shoulders on which they can cry.
We will listen.
We will learn from them what it is to be deeply hurt by an institution that they just as deeply love.
And we will be a balm for them as they seek to heal.

I don't know what the future will hold for the United Methodist Church. However, I do know that for me, the command to love my neighbors as myself has not changed. I pray that I may do so in ways that restore trust and wholeness for those who are now seeing the church as the enemy.

I will continue to pray for our Methodist siblings... and tell the stories of how I have been shaped in and through my time with them. And I would ask you to do the same.

And I will pray that we find ways to navigate this time together, bringing about love and justice, peace and compassion that leads us, together, to one place... where we will be blessed with a stunning glimpse of God's kingdom.

Church Budgets ≠ Anxiety

anx·i·e·ty

/aNGˈzīədē/

noun

1. a feeling of worry, nervousness, or unease, typically about an imminent event or something with an uncertain outcome.  

Many years ago, I was given a great gift… I was taught how to recognize my own  situational anxiety. And my life has not been the same since.

The anxiety I have been able to recognize in myself is, as I stated above, situational… meaning that it is in some ways different than that of an anxiety disorder, disproportionate levels of anxiety lived with on a daily basis. My anxiety was most often provoked… a fear surfacing or a tense situation in my life that would leave me feeling angered or distraught. Neither of which rendered me very functional.

And, after a great amount of self-work, once I was able to identify my own anxiety and that which caused it to come to the surface, I’ve been able to work at “nipping it in the bud,” as is often said. I’ve been able to learn my own triggers and feelings that previously almost always led to a session of anxiety felt throughout my body and overflowed into many areas of my life.

Actually, on one occasion, my own situational anxiety landed me in the emergency room at a local hospital with chest pains. Believe me, I don’t want that experience again.

So why am I telling you all of this? Well, in part, to set the stage for what I see as the heart of this piece I’m writing. And I also share this in hopes of naming something that many of us have experienced…and perhaps still experience on an all-too-often basis…as a way of saying that we are never truly alone in our experiences.

I share it also to let you know that for the type of anxiety which I have experienced, with work, I’ve found it can be controlled in a way. And as I stated already, the anxiety I am going to speak of is different than the clinically diagnosed variety which can lead to needing much more attention and possibly medical assistance than that which I have experienced.

Becoming better at recognizing that which raises my own levels of anxiety has also allowed me to be more aware of the experience in others. And that being said… I want to name an experience that I’ve witnessed more times than I can count of unnecessary anxiety growing within the church…nearly any church.

Now of course there are many things that can cause anxiety. Yet the one that seems to be the most prevalent in my observations is that directly linked to money. And in churches, I come about almost always when the community comes together to talk about its budget for the coming year.

For many of us, 

Church Budgets = Anxiety

And they don't have to!

Here at Newman UCC, we’ve had our share of anxiety-producing budget meetings in the past… as many churches do.

Significant deficits

Fewer pledges

Increased expenses

Unsure markets

You name it. If it has anything to do with the actual church budget, it has the ability to create anxiety in at least one, maybe more of the community members.

And knowing that we will be gathering in just a short amount of time for our Annual Budget Meeting, some in the church have begun recognizing their own church budget anxiety and doing a bit of “self care.” They are looking for any excuse at all to not be available to sit in on the meeting. LOL

When in reality what we need is for those people who recognize their own anxiety around this topic to show up and be part of the conversation that, I hope, will lessen that anxiety and replace it with a much healthier emotional experience.

You see, not one of us knows what the future holds. We don’t know exactly what God has in store for us, what new ministries may emerge, what old ministries may be retired. We don’t know how much it will snow or how much energy the solar panels will generate. 

What we do know is that God is calling us to be a place of ministry, with and for our neighbors… locally and globally. And we do that, in part, with resources named in our annual budget process.

So this year when we gather for our Budget Meeting, we will go in to that meeting with a budget… and we leave with a Mission Plan. The work we will do in that meeting will provide direction for that in which we will share in the coming year. Work and ministry. Worship and fellowship. Fundraising and advocacy. 

And in the midst of that process, we will give thanks for the incredible ways God’s Spirit has been at work in and through the very generous members of our faith community. 

So come, set aside your church budget anxiety and be part of celebrating God’s ministry in this place! 

Because:

Church Budgets ≠ Anxiety

Don't Be One of "Those" Ushers

It's Sunday morning. The sanctuary is set for worship to begin. The choir is in its place. Music hangs in the air as the congregation settles in. The Communion Table is set with homemade breads and those tiny, little chalices filled with Welch's Grape Juice. All things are ready.

We've gathered at this table before... many times, actually. We've heard the story of Jesus sharing his final meal with his friends. And then we are invited to eat and drink that which has been prepared and blessed, with the reminder that no matter who we are or where we are on life's journey, we are welcome to receive from that which is upon Christ's table.

Until today... today is different. The meal hasn't changed. The story is still the same. Yet, our actions will speak louder than our words.

Seeing the message of "God's Doors Are Open To All" printed on the rainbow doors out front, a new family decides to worship with us. They've heard about how welcoming our church is and want to give it a try. You see, they were part of another church in the next town over until things became too difficult for them to stay. For a variety of reasons they no longer felt safe there and decided that their only option was to leave.

And we became their destination.

The family begins walking toward our front doors... when all hell breaks loose.

The ushers, positioned at the church's entrance, have locked all of the doors to the building and have begun lobbing canisters of tear gas at the would-be visitors. Accompanying the assault are words shouted by the ushers; "Go back to where you came from! You're not welcome here!"

The parents frantically grab their children and run for safety, coughing and gagging as the tear gas makes its way into their mouths and lungs.

Inside, worship has begun and the organ is pumping out a boisterous tune, loud enough that those gathered in the sanctuary are unaware of the war that has erupted just outside the doors. And when it comes time for communion...they eat the bread, drink the juice and rejoice that the God they worship has called them to be part of such a "welcoming" community.

Now... thankfully, this is not the scenario playing out on a Sunday morning in our church. Nor would it be. I mean, our ushers are incredibly welcoming people.

However, this scenario is playing out on the southern border of our nation. Those leaving their homes behind because they are no longer safe for them or their families, in seeking asylum in our nation are greeted not with welcome arms but tear gas and rubber bullets. At one of our nation's ports of entry, a war zone has erupted. Families and children are running for their lives as they are fired upon.

Just as the Communion Table can serve as an open, welcoming destination for those of us who are in need of at least one place where we can be our true selves and not experience judgment or suffer harm, our nation once served as a place for those whose lives were in turmoil.

Until now. Now, those seeking asylum... those escaping extreme poverty, civil unrest and living conditions not one of us would wish for ourselves... they are met at our militarized border in a trauma-inducing rain of weaponry.

A not so subtle message of (un)welcome.

In just a few short weeks the church is going to be celebrating the birth of one whom many of us have chosen to follow. And yes, our culture has sterilized the story in a way, making Christmas more about his birth than about the circumstances that surrounded it. You see, Jesus wasn't born into a world that was perfect... far from it, actually. He came into a world where those in power sought to kill him... and eventually succeeded.

His family were refugees... escaping a situation that would've surely ended with not only Jesus' death but perhaps that of Mary and Joseph as well. Jesus was born into extreme hostility.

Can you imagine if when Joseph and Mary knocked on the innkeeper's door they were met instead by stones hurled at them from inside? Thankfully, that's not the story we have learned.

The innkeeper cared for these strangers, had compassion for them in their moment of great need. And the church has grown to carry on that tradition of hospitality, of caring, and of extravagant welcome. The church has lived into the call to love our neighbor... no matter who they are.

So once again, our churches are in direct contrast with the world in which we find ourselves. Our neighbors to the south are in need of our help. At the very least, they need to know that those hurling tear gas canisters at them and their children do not represent what we know to be the heart of our nation. And we must do what we can to put an end to this inhumane treatment.

Because the reality is... if we don't put an end to it soon, it will escalate. History provides plenty of examples for us, unfortunately.

So today, we must all live into our calling as Jesus-followers. We must make it a priority to address this situation. We must stand up for the lives of those whom some in our nation deem insignificant. Call your elected officials now and demand that we cease to militarize our borders, that we cease to inflict harm upon those coming to us seeking asylum.

Because this is not who we are! And we cannot, with a clear conscience, prepare to celebrate the birth of one refugee while waging war on others!

Our Faith is at Odds With Our Culture

In light of recent events in our nation and in response to a concern raised that the #MeToo movement is becoming a permission-giving movement where false accusations can be spread with intent to harm, I share this:

No movement, #MeToo or otherwise, dare I say no behavior, should EVER be lived with an intent to cause another person harm. And the #MeToo movement, in its creation, was not developed to give people permission to cause such harm. It is meant to bring people together with similar trauma histories in order to remind them that they are not alone and to remind the rest of us that our nation, our world, is in need of significant change in order to bring us to a place where we truly love one another as God intends… which sadly is not the experience of many in our nation today.

Many women and men are denied this experience of abundant love because of the overwhelmingly abusive power presenting as systemic misogyny and racism that are at the heart of much of our nation and its leadership today, both locally and nationally. And we see this most often when our neighbors begin to step out of the shadows and name the violence/discrimination/oppression they endure. We’ve seen it with Black Lives Matter, March for our Lives and now with #MeToo.

Jesus saw through this abuse of power in his time. He surrounded himself with those whom his culture continually brushed aside. He named to those in power the extent to which they had abused their positions and caused harm to their community and God’s beloved children. And then, Jesus in instructions to his disciples and to anyone with ears to hear, passed on the same instructions to us today. We are to love one another as God intended. This means listening when someone names how they have been harmed. This means being present for those who have endured abuse. This means taking a hard look at the system, the institution that has been created and decide whether or not it is in line with that which God envisioned for us. And if not… we must do everything in our faith and in our power to correct it.

Too many of our neighbors are being re-traumatized because people are unwilling to believe that someone would be capable of doing something so horrible. And we, as the church, as followers of Jesus Christ, must stand up against that ignorance and help to bring the truth to light.

Claiming to be a Christian is probably one of the more difficult things to do in our world today… because it means living according to a faith which is often at odds with our culture. Unfortunately, we are seeing this more and more in our world today. And as I’m sure that God weeps at this reality… I weep as well.

Despite (or perhaps because of) knowing how difficult that could be, I recommit myself, and invite you to do the same, to live according to the faith which God instills in us… to do justice, to love unconditionally those whom we know and those whom we’ve yet to meet, and to walk humbly with the God who dreams of a world where peace can finally be experienced. Until that day, we must do as Jesus commands… to speak the truth to power and pray that our love of neighbor helps to bring about the necessary healing in our world.