Praise Bands Annoy God

View my provocatively titled entry in Duke Divinity School's Confessio here.

Liturgy meets Kool and the Gang

To preface this post, let me just say that I love Holy Week. Good Friday is my favorite holiday (and this year it's on my birthday!). Holy Week and Easter historically has been the most sacred time in the church year, but I feel like we've fallen off from that with the commercial emphasis on Christmas. I am constantly looking for new ways to make holy days like Good Friday, Easter, etc. more real and meaningful to people.

Yesterday was Palm/Passion Sunday. It can be a tricky week to plan worship for, because it is both a celebration of Jesus' entry into Jerusalem and an observance of the narrative of his trial and crucifixion. A lot of churches end up celebrating Palm Sunday and skipping straight to Easter--many don't have Maundy Thursday or Good Friday services, and even for those that do, not everyone attends those. I actually heard a good children's sermon (a rarity, in my experience) yesterday talking about shortcuts, telling the children that it's important not to go straight from Palm Sunday to Easter and skip the Last Supper and the crucifixion. I could probably write a whole blog post on why I think that's important, but for now we'll just take it as a given.

I had the privilege yesterday of being a part of a worship service that successfully moved from the exuberant joy of Palm Sunday to the somber meditation on Christ's death. The Pathways service at Orange United Methodist Church in Chapel Hill, NC, is a contemporary service where my boyfriend, Gary Mitchell, leads worship. I've joined them as a vocalist fairly regularly for the past 9 months or so, and I've learned a lot, especially because I grew up in and generally prefer traditional-style worship--in fact, I used to hate contemporary worship. I now see that the reason I hated it was that I had never seen it done well. But let me tell you about yesterday's service.

Worship began with the associate pastor, Nancy Varden, proclaiming Jesus' entry into Jerusalem and describing how both this week and next begin with a celebration. The worship team them launched into a modified version of "Celebrate Good Times." I think I just heard the thud of good church folks fainting to the floor. I was skeptical myself, but this selection turned out great. Gary changed the words to "Celebrate the Christ, come on," and "Oh Hosanna" instead of "Celebration." During the song, a few dozen kids ran up and down the aisles waving palm branches and streamers. "So bring your good times / and your laughter too / we're gonna celebrate our Savior with you." It may sound silly, but it really worked.

This service usually opens with a big chunk of praise and worship, so the next song we did was "My Hope Is Built." It was an arrangement by Curtis Mulder, and it's actually not too different from gospel versions I've heard of that hymn. From there we moved into the song "The Wonderful Cross," which takes the verses of "When I Survey the Wondrous Cross" and adds a praise chorus: "Oh, the wonderful cross / Oh, the wonderful cross / bids me come and die / and find that I may truly live." We closed out the first part of the service with the song "Jesus, Be the Center," a slower, Gaelic-sounding tune that asks Jesus to be the vision and center of our lives. Lots of great, great music, and that was just for starters.

Rev. Ken Hall, Jr., the senior pastor at OUMC, delivered a sermon entitled "Brought Low and Lifted High." He looked at Philippians 2:5-11 and spoke on how we are to understand ourselves, Jesus, and our response to Jesus through this early hymn of the Christian faith. His sermon acknowledged the joy of Palm Sunday while looking ahead to the trial and crucifixion of Jesus, all against the backdrop of the hope of his resurrection and the forgiveness of sins he effected on the cross.

After the sermon, the vocalists came back up and assisted in a litany that consisted of verses from Isaiah 53 and Revelation 5, punctuated by a musical response lifted from the Kirk Franklin song "Now Behold the Lamb." This was a little more liturgy than is usual at Pathways, but it's something they've been wanting to incorporate more, and this worked really well as a meditation on Christ's sacrifice for us.

The service ended with the lights being dimmed and Jennifer Rice, a friend and phenomenal vocalist, singing "Were You There?" solo. During the second verse, I went up and draped a black cloth over the cross to symbolize the mourning period before Easter and the resurrection. For the final verse, "Were you there when they laid him in the tomb?", the song went into a minor key, which just added to the somber, meditative mood. When Jennifer finished, Gary closed worship with an invitation to come back for Maundy Thursday and Good Friday services, and to rejoin them at the Pathways service for Easter next Sunday.

That service represented a lot of what I really want to do and get better at in my own ministry. Mixing traditions, honoring liturgy and the church calendar, and thinking outside the box in how to engage people with Scripture and the life of the church--all of these are things that I value and that can have real impact when done well. Yesterday's worship propelled me into Holy Week with a sense of purpose and attentiveness to the Spirit. I am grateful for that and look forward to doing more worship like that as I continue in my education and ministry.

"Oh yes, you did laugh."

I had a disorienting experience the other day that got me thinking. I still don't quite know what I want to say about it, but I'm just going to describe what happened and get some feedback.

I was at a church on Sunday that is not "my" church but which I visit occasionally. During the sermon, the pastor used the famous quote by Saint Francis: "Preach the Gospel; when necessary, use words." I was nodding in agreement when I heard several people in the congregation laugh out loud. I was completely thrown off guard. I had never thought that this quote was funny. I wondered if I'd missed something.

Later that afternoon, I called my dad, a longtime pastor and a Saint Francis fanboy. I told him about this new reaction to the quote, and he told me he'd had similar experiences in certain churches or settings where he was a visiting preacher or speaker. In particular settings, some things he says that would normally (by people who know him and share his perspective) would be met with pondering silence instead elicit laughter.

I suspect I'll eventually have more to say about what I think this means, but for now I want to hear your thoughts. What is your reaction to the saying, "Preach the Gospel; if necessary, use words?" Or have you had an experience where you found something funny that wasn't intended that way, or vice versa? What do you think different reactions to a statement like that mean, if anything?

O Young and Fearless Prophet (A Hymn by S. Ralph Harlow)

O young and fearless Prophet
of ancient Galilee,
thy life is still a summons
to serve humanity;
to make our thoughts and actions
less prone to please the crowd,
to stand with humble courage
for truth with hearts uncowed.

We marvel at the purpose
that held thee to thy course
while ever on the hilltop
before thee loomed the cross;
thy steadfast face set forward
where love and duty shone,
while we betray so quickly
and leave thee there alone.

O help us stand unswerving
against war's bloody way,
where hate and lust and falsehood
hold back Christ's holy sway;
forbid false love of country
that blinds us to his call,
who lifts above the nations
the unity of all.

Stir up in us a protest
against our greed for wealth,
while others starve and hunger
and plead for work and health;
where homes with little children
cry out for lack of bread,
who live their years sore burdened
beneath a gloomy dread.

O young and fearless Prophet,
we need thy presence here,
amid our pride and glory
to see thy face appear;
once more to hear thy challenge
above our noisy day,
again to lead us forward
along God's holy way.

UMH No. 444

We Understand Tectonic Plates (a hymn by Andrew Pratt)

This and other hymns and worship resources for times of crisis can be found at http://www.gbod.org/Worship/default.asp?loc_id=739,1112&act=nav_loc.

We understand tectonic plates
That move beneath our feet
We understand that powerful waves
Make rivers in the street
But when we try to centre God
Our sense is incomplete

To say creation points to God
Will never make real sense
Except within a frame of faith
Outside it brings offense
Our claim is more than paradox
Within this present tense

And so we struggle with the fact
That contradict belief
Until we find a greater truth
We never find relief
Reason and revelation clash
And die in disbelief

We honor God for all that is
And all that is to be
We may not understand God's ways
Until eternity
But love is stronger than belief
And faith can help us see

(Set to the tune MORNING SONG)

Why I wouldn’t want to attend an "open and affirming" church

A few opening words. First, the title of this blog was intentionally worded to elicit an emotional reaction, and I'm betting it did its job for most of you. Before you read further, take a moment to register what your initial thoughts and feelings were upon reading the title. Tuck that away in the back of your mind, and keep reading.

Second, this blog is one I think I meant to write years ago. I did write something that was a pitiful attempt at this, but it was clumsily conceived and written, and it hurt some people. For that I am sorry. This entry is an attempt at an apology and a rewrite. Hopefully this time, what I meant to say will come through more clearly.

With the disclaimers out of the way, I should warn you that if you do not share the basic assumptions I am working with, reading this blog is pointless. So let's get that straight from the get-go, OK? Here are the givens on which my thoughts depend:

• Homosexuals are members of the body of Christ
• Heterosexuals who support LGBT rights are members of the body of Christ
• Heterosexuals who do not support LGBT rights are members of the body of Christ

If you disagree with any of those statements, or think that any one of them is more important than the others, you should proceed with caution, or at least keeping in mind that we might not see eye-to-eye on our basic assumptions. Also, I've had to simplify my categories for the sake of brevity—I am fully aware that there are heterosexuals who do not think homosexuality is a sin but who do not support gay marriage, and that there are plenty of other in-betweens. Forgive me the lack of nuance, and if you don't seem to fit into one of the three groups above, I'd be more than happy to talk with you more individually if you so desire. My thoughts on this subject are continually developing, and I have much to learn.

I also want to say upfront: homosexuality is not an "issue." It has to do with people. And we aren't just talking about behaviors—we're talking about identities. Heterosexuals on both sides of the "issue" (there I go already) sometimes forget that.

So let’s get down to business, shall we? Back to the title of my blog. I would not want to attend an "open and affirming" church. To begin to articulate my thoughts on this, I'll share a bit about one church with which I am fairly familiar. It's a large, mainline Protestant church, historically white and upper-middle-class but recently becoming wonderfully diverse in many ways. There are a number of members who are gay, but the church has not declared itself "open and affirming."

Recently, a few people (who I believe were relatively new to the congregation) began to lobby the pastor to make this move. The pastor dissuaded them. Why? Because if that church were to be branded "open and affirming" or "gay friendly," the one or two members staunchly opposed to homosexuality would come out in full force, and deeply hurtful things would be said. Right now, the church is doing fine at welcoming gays, whether every single member knows it or not. To declare the congregation "open and affirming" would divide the church more than it would unite it.

A similar thing happened with my campus ministry group a few years before I got to college. The LGBT center was asking various organizations to make themselves known as "safe places" by putting stickers from the center on their office doors. Despite the fact that my campus minister and many of the group's members are vocal allies, they decided against it because they did not want to make people who disagreed feel unwelcome. Think about it—if you proclaim yourself "open and affirming," how much meaningful conversation will you have in-house on the topic that isn't one-sided?

See, it's not that I’m opposed to a church being open and affirming in deed. It's just that I wonder what is lost when a church takes the road of declaring itself as such. There are people in my life whom I would miss very much from my congregation if that happened. Some voices would be emboldened, but others would be lost completely.

I once went to a worship service that was so LGBT-friendly that I felt out of place—the songs were all about love in many forms, the vestments were rainbow-colored, even the communion bread had been made with an array of food dyes. I'll admit it—I was uncomfortable. I wasn't even sure I should be there.

The thing is, even though I was personally uneasy in that worship service, it was a truly beautiful event. All around me were people who had been hurt or disenfranchised by society and even by the church, and suddenly they were empowered, they were loved, they knew that at least in that time and that place, they were members of the body of Christ. My own discomfort paled in comparison to the joy and hope I saw in that room. And I couldn't help but think: the way I feel now—some of these people feel that way all the time.

Here's the part where I need help. What the heck are we supposed to do about this? The problem that I recognize in my own argument about avoiding the "open and affirming" stamp is that it can easily be misconstrued to mean, "don't ask, don't tell." But how can we be members of the same body if we don't understand each other? How can we bear one another's burdens if we don’t know what those burdens are?

There's another point I want to make that's going to be tricky to articulate, but I think it's important, so allow me to try. I've heard several gay friends and acquaintances of mine tell me that part of their struggle is that they don't want their lives to be defined by one issue (because even if we acknowledge what I said earlier—that it's not an "issue," it's about people—the world makes it an issue for us). Neither should an issue define our faith. Part of why I was so uncomfortable in the worship service I described earlier is that I feel very strongly that worship is not about us; it's about God. Worship shouldn't be about celebrating gayness—neither should it be about celebrating American-ness (which is why I don't like singing patriotic hymns in church), wealth (which is why the "prosperity gospel" is no gospel at all), racial identity (oh good grief that's a whole other can of worms, not now, please), or any other human quality.

By the way...let me briefly unpack my 3 givens from the beginning of the post. Too often we forget that saying someone is a member of the body of Christ does not mean that you agree with everything they say or do. At the 2008 General Conference of the United Methodist Church, a group tried and failed to change the wording of the paragraph in the social principles about homosexuality. Contrary to what you might have gathered from the intense anger of the opposition, the change would not have condoned homosexuality. What it would have said was that we must acknowledge that many intelligent, faithful people have examined the Bible, church tradition and the issue itself, and they have come down on both sides. The question here in my blog is not the whether homosexuality is right or wrong. I rarely debate that subject anymore, because honestly, I have yet to be thoroughly convinced by anybody one way or the other. I've heard people use the exact same Bible passages to argue opposite points, and at least for me the question has worn out its welcome. I don't want to know whether the church can come up with the perfect answer to every question. I want to know what the church is going to do in the face of uncertainty and disagreement.

A friend of mine (who is gay) once told me that although it's fine for people to disagree theologically with homosexuality, it is never OK to hate. The crucial point here, which far too many people miss, is that disagreement and hatred are not correlative to each other. We can be a part of the body of Christ without being on exactly the same page on everything, if only we can remember that our focus is on God and that the only way we can be healed is by working together towards understanding, not by issuing ultimatums.

So. Can you be gay and be a Christian? Yes. Can you support gays in their sexual identity and lifestyle choices and be a Christian? Yes. Can you hold the belief that homosexuality is a sin and be a Christian? Yes.

In closing, let me ask you to recall that first emotional reaction to the title of my blog. Did you assume I was anti-gay? Did that offend or affirm you? Did your assumptions prior to reading this blog color my status in your mind as a member of the body of Christ—or not? We all need help being Christians. None of us have it right. "All have sinned and fall short of the glory of God." All means all.

Why Has This Happened to Me?

These two videos together form my sermon from worship yesterday at Asbury Temple UMC. It's in two parts, so don't forget the second video.