More and more, it seems that I am getting the question “What is the United Church of Christ?” Most of the time, I simply respond, “Probably the most progressive mainline protestant denomination out there.” But that really doesn’t say much. And often, people associate progressive with liberal, and make a whole lot of assumptions which really lead to no where productive.
Recently, the UCC released their recently redesigned website. As part of it, they created a wonderful page which asks congregations to examine how they fit into what matters to the UCC.
Here is the site, but I’ll give you the quick and dirty if you’re reading on the run.
(1) We Are People of God’s Extravagant Welcome
In recent marketing campaigns, the UCC
adopted the slogan, “Jesus didn’t turn people
away. Neither do we.” God’s arms are open
to us all, and the UCC strives to be direct
about such a revolutionary welcome and grace.
(2) We Belong to Christ
From the site (b/c I couldn’t think of a way to say it better):
"We belong to Christ" is a loaded phrase. It's loaded
because it means different things to different people.
It packs within it comfort for some; challenge for
others; and for many both comfort and challenge. For
some, the words unite; for others the words divide. In
the United Church of Christ, we pray the words comfort, challenge, and unite.
(3) We Are a People of Covenant, a United and Uniting Church
The church historically is steeped in the idea of
Covenant, promises that are defined on levels
beyond human loyalty. In that covenant is the promise
of God’s love and grace, which has brought us together
and continues to do so.
(4) We Are One at Baptism and at the Table
Again, from the site: Just some water, just a simple meal of
bread and juice, but for us in the United Church Christ, what
is simple means much more. We celebrate two sacraments.
One is Baptism. The other is Holy Communion which is also
often called the Lord's Supper or Eucharist. Sacraments are
our ritual acts in worship life when the Holy Spirit uses water, bread, and wine to make visible the grace, forgiveness, and presence of God in Christ.
(5) We Thank God by Working for a Just and Loving World
We are called by God to do whatever we can
to be stewards of God’s Creation. Certainly this includes
environmental concerns, but it goes far beyond that.
It means working for justice for the disenfranchised,
loving the unloved, and realized that anything we
interact with is part of God’s creation.
(6) We Listen for the Still-speaking God
God isn’t dormant. The Bible isn’t the end of
God’s voice speaking to us. Part of an active
spiritual life is action and silence, finding the
space for God to speak, and the will to listen.
Showing posts with label God. Show all posts
Showing posts with label God. Show all posts
27 August 2007
remembering grace at the waffle house
Yesterday evening I went to Waffle House. I used to go pretty regularly as it’s a way of life down here. I remember moving to Elon, and trying to get my new friends into the Waffle House experience.
“But I’m not hungry,” they would whine.
“We’re not going to eat,” I’d nearly shout back
Eating isn’t the point (however, it is a nice added bonus).
The point is going, and being. There were three Waffle Houses within a mile of my high school--each with its own group of kids that went there often. I went to the one closest to my church so much during my high school days, that they gave me a menu when I left for college.
When it was all said and done, Waffle House was always there--open, with good food and usually good friends.
Last night, I was meeting my friend, Kellie, at the Waffle House up by the highway. Assuming I would be the first one there (we went to the one far closer to me than to her), I brought a book with me.
The book was Mountains Beyond Mountains by Tracy Kidder. The book, which I read once before for a class during my junior year of college, is about Dr. Paul Farmer’s quest to solve the health problems of Haiti. The title comes from a Haitian proverb: “Beyond mountains there are mountains.”
You can imagine how the book goes. I was somewhere in the third chapter where Kidder writes about the policies of Farmer’s rural healthcare center. The one rule that was distinctly Farmer’s and the one which couldn’t be broken, was that no one was turned away. They would help every last patient.
And I realized that is our call--to not turn people away. And in that is the Grace we are given, that we won’t be turned away.
As as Charlie Daniels sawed on that fiddle, playing it hot over the jukebox, I knew that I was glad to be at Waffle House--at a place where the door was open, and smiles waited inside. And I was glad to be reminded of God’s grace--where the arms are open, and love awaits us all.
blessings.
jon.
“But I’m not hungry,” they would whine.
“We’re not going to eat,” I’d nearly shout back
Eating isn’t the point (however, it is a nice added bonus).
The point is going, and being. There were three Waffle Houses within a mile of my high school--each with its own group of kids that went there often. I went to the one closest to my church so much during my high school days, that they gave me a menu when I left for college.
When it was all said and done, Waffle House was always there--open, with good food and usually good friends.
Last night, I was meeting my friend, Kellie, at the Waffle House up by the highway. Assuming I would be the first one there (we went to the one far closer to me than to her), I brought a book with me.
The book was Mountains Beyond Mountains by Tracy Kidder. The book, which I read once before for a class during my junior year of college, is about Dr. Paul Farmer’s quest to solve the health problems of Haiti. The title comes from a Haitian proverb: “Beyond mountains there are mountains.”
You can imagine how the book goes. I was somewhere in the third chapter where Kidder writes about the policies of Farmer’s rural healthcare center. The one rule that was distinctly Farmer’s and the one which couldn’t be broken, was that no one was turned away. They would help every last patient.
And I realized that is our call--to not turn people away. And in that is the Grace we are given, that we won’t be turned away.
As as Charlie Daniels sawed on that fiddle, playing it hot over the jukebox, I knew that I was glad to be at Waffle House--at a place where the door was open, and smiles waited inside. And I was glad to be reminded of God’s grace--where the arms are open, and love awaits us all.
blessings.
jon.
Rainstorms and Windchimes
We had bad storms yesterday evening. I mean bad. Just as my family was heading out for dinner, a lightning storm descended upon us. And by descended, I really mean blew in from the west, over beyond the river.
We were all three sitting outside on our back porch listening to the rain, when the rain brought distant thunder and lightning to our front door. We all scurried inside, thinking it would soon pass.
But we were wrong. Soon we were directly under the storm. Directly under as in hearing three sounds: the rain, the thunder, and the lightning popping fifty feet away.
I’ll be honest. I even found myself getting antsy and telling my mom that I wasn’t too fond of this storm.
We were each doing our own things. Mom had the paper, dad was doing God knows what, and I was finishing up Anne Lamott’s latest book Grace (Eventually) which is pretty good, fyi. Basically, we were trying our best to avoid the tempest just outside our door.
Then, through the midst of the rain and wind and popping and crashing, I heard our wind chimes ringing. They were peaceful and calm, a ringing voice that reminded us that even in the presence of the most turbulent of storms there are moments in which, if we listen carefully and closely enough, we can hear God’s own voice of comfort.
A couple of weeks ago, I rediscovered a favorite writing of mine. I’d like to share it with you now.
Blessings.
jon.
We were all three sitting outside on our back porch listening to the rain, when the rain brought distant thunder and lightning to our front door. We all scurried inside, thinking it would soon pass.
But we were wrong. Soon we were directly under the storm. Directly under as in hearing three sounds: the rain, the thunder, and the lightning popping fifty feet away.
I’ll be honest. I even found myself getting antsy and telling my mom that I wasn’t too fond of this storm.
We were each doing our own things. Mom had the paper, dad was doing God knows what, and I was finishing up Anne Lamott’s latest book Grace (Eventually) which is pretty good, fyi. Basically, we were trying our best to avoid the tempest just outside our door.
Then, through the midst of the rain and wind and popping and crashing, I heard our wind chimes ringing. They were peaceful and calm, a ringing voice that reminded us that even in the presence of the most turbulent of storms there are moments in which, if we listen carefully and closely enough, we can hear God’s own voice of comfort.
A couple of weeks ago, I rediscovered a favorite writing of mine. I’d like to share it with you now.
It is not you who shape God:
it is God who shapes you.
If then you are the work of God,
await the hand of the Artist
who does all things in due season.
Offer the Potter your heart,
soft and tractable,
and keep the form in which
the Artist has fashioned you.
Let your clay be moist,
lest you grow hard and lose
the imprint of the Potter’s fingers.
-Irenaeus, 2nd Century Theologian
Blessings.
jon.
The Problem with Open Arms
This past weekend, I was at the Fund for Theological Education’s annual conference on ministry. This conference, which as I mentioned earlier I attended last year, is amazing because it brings all of these fantastic young people together. Folks from every denomination you can think of (at least most of them) were there, and through it all, there was a common understanding that there were places we disagreed, but that when it came down to it, there was a foundational place where we all could agree. In the end, beyond the details and places we differed was the assurance of the story and the love.
During my time at this year’s conference, I found myself in the position to have to explain exactly what the United Church of Christ is. After some surface level history lessons, and an attempt at sharing what the UCC holds as important social justice issues (which for the record, is all of them), I realized that maybe the best way to describe the UCC is by explaining its arms.
Here’s what I mean. When approached by a question or an issue, the UCC debates and discusses and converses about how to respond. As many of our critics have duly noted, we are pretty open toward a whole myriad of possible responses, but the one great litmus test that is consistently applied to these topics is this single question: Is the action we are about to take going to open our arms wider or close them tighter?
If the answer isn’t that it will open our arms wider, then the answer/response simply isn’t good enough. Period. And that is what I love about the UCC, and about Christ (more importantly about Christ). Arms are extended wider, reaching out, pulling in, and saying “we’re gonna love you where you are, not where someone thinks you should be.”
Last year, at this same conference, a minister sitting on a panel for undergraduates recalled one of the most important things that she had learned in Seminary was this: “Two things,” she said. “Believe the story. Love the people.”
“How Simple!” I thought. Right. Not so much.
Why is it, then, that some people are so damn hard to love?
For many its believing the story that is the problem. And, to some extent, I have my doubts about literal interpretations, etc. But its the love part that’s the real kicker. Christ certainly said that loving each other is the greatest thing we can do second to loving God with our whole beings. And somewhere along the way, I’m sure he mentioned that it wouldn’t be easy. But damn.
So how do you love people who (1) are abusive in theology or self (2) refuse to love you or (3) seem to try every trick in the book to separate themselves from you and from God?
I have to believe that God can offer that love. If I don’t, then I’m not sure where the starting place for life is. But is it fair for us to claim to be able to do the same thing? I began to answer that question sometime ago:
So the problem with open arms, is that as much as we want to hold them wide open--shouting for people to come in to our fold, we can’t. And the really scary part is that our arms are the first to go. Soon, our minds get tired, and then our hearts.
And then, grace like rain reminds us that we are cleansed, refreshed, and made well. And that maybe holding our arms open is worth the weariness and hurt. That people will come around. That is was by God’s love that we came to God, and in the same way, our love that others can come to us.
For some time, I’ve looked to 1st John for my favorite lifting words. So, I leave you with this and a thought.
So what, then are we afraid of?
blessings.
jon.
During my time at this year’s conference, I found myself in the position to have to explain exactly what the United Church of Christ is. After some surface level history lessons, and an attempt at sharing what the UCC holds as important social justice issues (which for the record, is all of them), I realized that maybe the best way to describe the UCC is by explaining its arms.
Here’s what I mean. When approached by a question or an issue, the UCC debates and discusses and converses about how to respond. As many of our critics have duly noted, we are pretty open toward a whole myriad of possible responses, but the one great litmus test that is consistently applied to these topics is this single question: Is the action we are about to take going to open our arms wider or close them tighter?
If the answer isn’t that it will open our arms wider, then the answer/response simply isn’t good enough. Period. And that is what I love about the UCC, and about Christ (more importantly about Christ). Arms are extended wider, reaching out, pulling in, and saying “we’re gonna love you where you are, not where someone thinks you should be.”
Last year, at this same conference, a minister sitting on a panel for undergraduates recalled one of the most important things that she had learned in Seminary was this: “Two things,” she said. “Believe the story. Love the people.”
“How Simple!” I thought. Right. Not so much.
Why is it, then, that some people are so damn hard to love?
For many its believing the story that is the problem. And, to some extent, I have my doubts about literal interpretations, etc. But its the love part that’s the real kicker. Christ certainly said that loving each other is the greatest thing we can do second to loving God with our whole beings. And somewhere along the way, I’m sure he mentioned that it wouldn’t be easy. But damn.
So how do you love people who (1) are abusive in theology or self (2) refuse to love you or (3) seem to try every trick in the book to separate themselves from you and from God?
I have to believe that God can offer that love. If I don’t, then I’m not sure where the starting place for life is. But is it fair for us to claim to be able to do the same thing? I began to answer that question sometime ago:
We claim unconditional love, but to not recognize our incapability of attaining it would be folly. While humans can muster magnificent and tremendous amounts of love and compassion, we are unable to mimic such devotion. We love, but only to a point. We open our arms with compassion, but find our arms growing tired. God does not falter like humans. God keeps loving; God keeps his compassion flowing. Where humans insert a “but,” God insists on “regardless.” We have God’s love, regardless; we have God’s grace, regardless.
So the problem with open arms, is that as much as we want to hold them wide open--shouting for people to come in to our fold, we can’t. And the really scary part is that our arms are the first to go. Soon, our minds get tired, and then our hearts.
And then, grace like rain reminds us that we are cleansed, refreshed, and made well. And that maybe holding our arms open is worth the weariness and hurt. That people will come around. That is was by God’s love that we came to God, and in the same way, our love that others can come to us.
For some time, I’ve looked to 1st John for my favorite lifting words. So, I leave you with this and a thought.
There is no fear in love,
but perfect love casts out fear...
1 John 4. 18
So what, then are we afraid of?
blessings.
jon.
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