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The building of my home congregation is wedged between three worlds: a funeral home, where people bring their grief and mourning; an old home subdivided into a surprising number of small, crowded, but affordable apartments for those who make little in the tourist industry; and an extraordinarily large, recently constructed stone mansion, complete with gatehouse and dog runs, owned by a couple desperate to make their mark in society – going so far as to shop around a reality show about their life to various cable networks. Down one street is an elite college and equally elite neighborhood, a combination of old and new money, and predominantly white. Down another is a poorer neighborhood, where low-income housing and homeless shelters exist in the predominantly minority neighborhood. Down a third is the thoroughbred race track, a symbol of opulence – hiding the oppressive conditions of living quarters for the migrants who are employed by the track (called the backstretch workers).

Depending on the door you look out, you might think the most pressing social justice concern is emotional pain, or income inequality, or immigration, or the war on workers, or homelessness, or racism.

And the truth is, they are all the most pressing social justice concern.

At General Assembly 2013 in Louisville, I attended a workshop by Rev. Beth Ellen Cooper entitled “Occupy Your Faith.” Rev. Cooper spoke about ways to make our faith real and active; like the Occupy movement, she said, our faith isn’t anarchical; rather, it is immediate and active, not an idea with manifestos and declarations. The call isn’t to declare what issue we want to tackle, but to get out there and tackle it. She challenged us to consider “who is our neighbor, and what is their pain?”

Since General Assembly, I have been thinking about this charge, and have been challenged by it. At Union Theological Seminary, we are in a beautiful, upper class institution, on the edge of Harlem – between the opulence of Columbia University and the struggles of 125th Street, between comfortable middle class apartments and people sleeping on benches in Riverside Park. And that’s just our neighborhood; inside the ‘castle’ we have people and organizations who speak about and work toward justice in a variety of areas – from the Poverty Initiative to the Edible Churchyard, from the Black and Latin@ Caucuses to the Institute for Women, Religion, and Globalization, and more – each group speaking loudly about the call to action our faith demands. Every issue is important. Every concern is vital to people’s lives. Every injustice – to people and to the earth – requires full and immediate attention.

And the call is clear; as Frederick Buechner writes, “There can never really be any peace and joy for me until there is peace and joy finally for you too.”

The call is clear: as Rabbie Arthur Waskow wrote in The Freedom Seder[1]:

For if we were to end a single genocide but not to stop the other wars that kill men and women as we sit here, it would not be sufficient; If we were to end those bloody wars but not disarm the nations of the weapons that could destroy all mankind, it would not be sufficient;

If we were to disarm the nations but not to end the brutality with which the police attack black people in some countries, brown people in others;

Moslems in some countries, Hindus in other; Baptists in some countries, atheists in others; Communists in some countries, conservatives in others—it would not be sufficient;

If we were to end outright police brutality but not prevent some people from wallowing in luxury while others starved, it would not be sufficient;

If we were to make sure that no one starved but were not to free the daring poets from their jails, it would not be sufficient; If we were to free the poets from their jails but to train the minds of people so that they could not understand the poets, it would not be sufficient;

If we educated all men and women to understand the free creative poets but forbade them to explore their own inner ecstasies, it would not be sufficient; If we allowed men and women to explore their inner ecstasies but would not allow them to love one another and share in the human fraternity, it would not be sufficient.

How much then are we in duty bound to struggle, work, share, give, think, plan, feel, organize, sit-in, speak out, hope, and be on behalf of Mankind!

The call is clear. And it is enough to paralyze a person. The list of injustices is so overwhelming , we can be paralyzed in deep anguish so we can’t even register the thousands of ways, big and small, our world is hurting. As Rebecca Parker says in Blessing the World, “our despair keeps us from being able to see.”

So what can I do? How can I engage every social justice concern in my ministry, knowing that alone I cannot solve every problem, knowing that every problem is dependent upon every other problem? It goes back to Rev. Cooper’s challenge: Who is my neighbor, and what is their pain?

As I leave New York City for the warmth of Key West, Florida, and my ministerial internship at One Island Family, I know my first step is to learn who my neighbor is. I already know there are issues of homelessness in Key West, as well as a similar question of income inequality in a tourist town. I already know people come to Key West for a variety of reasons, but that one of those is escape from personal pain. But that’s just what I know from some discussions with Rev. Dr. Randy Becker and a short visit in March. I imagine that in Key West – much like any location I find myself in – the first months will be exegeting the community and learning who these people are and what they face.

The second step, of course, is action. How can I help ease their burdens? And how can the congregations and communities I find myself in help others? We don’t have to take on large tasks – I think of Bishop Desmond Tutu’s comment that “the good news to a hungry person is bread.” If we can offer food to someone who is hungry, or a roof to someone who is homeless, or child care to someone who needs help in order to work, or medicine to someone who is sick, then we should do that first. The letters to politicians, the marches and protests, the large fundraising efforts – those are important too. As Margaret Mead rightly said, “Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world; indeed, it is the only thing that ever has.”

Our most pressing social justice concern is the one in front of us – we fail as ministers if we do not act.

 
  [1] https://theshalomcenter.org/sites/default/files/freedomseder.pdf

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After the service Sunday, we had a small group conversation – what some congregations call a talkback but which Saratoga calls “church chat.” It was a lively discussion about the series of sermons I just wrapped up on God – over three weeks, I talked about the transcendent, the immanent, and the creating-creator aspects of the Divine as we see them in our principles and our hymns.

During the conversation, one member asked me “did you put process theology at the end on purpose?” The question was probably meant to tease out my own beliefs, which I addressed – yes, process theology clicks for me, and it feels like a broader idea of God that encompasses the transcendent and the immanent.

But I think there’s more to it than that. And I have been thinking about it a lot. There are many reasons I put this  relational, creative, dynamic God at the end of the series – and what I keep coming down to is that this image of God – this ever-expanding, ever-changing Divine energy/spirit/infinite all – doesn’t coerce us but rather entices us toward beauty and goodness. This creating-creator God embraces us in the family of humanity and shows us infinite possibility in every choice we make. This way of being in the world, with each other, as artists of time and space, as painters of beauty and truth, as sculptors of dignity and justice, is what we are each called to be at each moment.

This calling vibrates through the hallowed halls of our theological house. Our Unitarian, Universalist, and Unitarian-Universalist roots call us to choose, at each moment, a path toward goodness and healing, to create a community of well-being, to reach out.

This creator, creating, relational, dynamic God IS the God of Unitarian Universalism. This is the faith that calls us to action. This theology is how we make our way in the world. And we must make the choice, at every moment, to act. How will we act?

And more to the point, how will I act? What choices do I make? How am I an artist of creation, painting and weaving and sculpting my corner of the universe to make it more compassionate, beautiful, healing, just?

I put the God of process theology at the end of the series because we cannot just sit and sing and think about God. We have to do. We HAVE to take an active role. Life is not a spectator sport; we must all act in this participatory universe.

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I am pretty sure I was not the only person headed for a pulpit this morning who let out an extra moan after hearing the verdict in the Zimmerman trial.

In the midst of weeping for the Martin family, for our young black men, and the failed justice system…and after a while weeping also for women, for immigrants, for students, for the poor, for the marginalized… somewhere in the midst of my uncontrollable weeping, I let out a moan, knowing I had a sermon that felt like half a loaf compared to the shock, anger, sorrow, and fear we were all facing. How could I stand up and talk about a loving, father-mother god, when God was not in heaven and all was wrong with the world? How could I present this hopeful, encouraging service when we were faced with such pain?

That is when Pat Humphrey’s song came to mind (song begins at 1:53)…

I began to sing to myself and slowly began to stop crying. I knew I could not let this travesty of justice go unmentioned, but I also knew I could not write an entirely new sermon at midnight on Saturday.

But I could do something: I wrote a new call to worship for this morning – one that acknowledges our pain, our frustration, and our need to come together for comfort, for peace, for space, for nourishment. I invited us all to not get stuck, but to keep on moving forward. And we sang. And then we moved on to the rest of the service, talking about the loving, transcendent God that is found in Unitarian Universalism.

Of the many lessons I have learned since entering seminary, the one that’s been most remarkable and meaningful is the lesson about being present to the present moment of a congregation. You can have everything perfectly planned, but if they are hurting, or if there is strife, or if something tragic has happened, you have to be present to that pain and address it in a way that comforts and encourages. People want space for their pain to be acknowledged – and they want something to both nourish and distract them for a bit. We can’t let our inner preacher silence our inner pastor.

Nor can we let our own pains get in the way. Last month, in the midst of a bizarre crisis that hit my village and my family, I was slated to preach on the virtues of theism and humanism; the week, however, was difficult, and in my pain, all I wanted to say was “God’s dead and people suck.” Of course, I didn’t… I found a path through my pain to provide a message that was both authentic to the situation I found myself in and was nourishing to the congregation I spoke to. I had to keep on moving forward.

And that’s the lesson. We can pause and honor our pain. We can weep out of anger, fear, frustration. We can feel paralyzed by injustice. And we can pause with others who feel as we do. But then we have to take that next step. We cannot, CANNOT let injustice and hate win. We have to keep on moving forward.

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Whenever I encounter an article, photo album, site, or video I don’t have time or ability to view at the moment, I email the link to myself and shove them into a folder called “internet for later.” I always intend to go to the folder as soon as I can to see what I saved that day or week…but somehow it simply became a dumping ground.  Yesterday, I found myself with some time, so I decided to clean out the folder. And I found nearly 200 emails to myself. Some of them had articles that I had actually read, some had items I still need to hang on to, some had links that for the life of me I can’t figure out why I saved.

One of the links – found very recently – is to a site called Stuff Christian Culture Likes. The blogger, a former evangelical preacher’s kid, outlines in some great detail parts of this particular flavor of Christian culture. Some of it’s kinda fun, from the outside, to laugh at (like The Ungame). But much of what Stephanie Drury says points to the very thing Unitarian Universalists can’t abide: the need for certainty.

It hit me while reading Stephanie’s post on “Things that Edify“:

Edification is mentioned several times in the New Testament, basically saying we should do stuff that edifies ourselves and each other. It’s a lovely concept and Christians want to take it seriously. But the Bible doesn’t give a whole lot of specifics as to what is edifying and what isn’t. Christian culture wants to know exactly what that means, so they have filled in the blanks.

Over and over again, whether talking about social issues, church organizations, or family, she points to the need for certainty. They fill in the blanks so there is no unsurety, and all subsequent issues get measured against that created doctrine. Whether it’s blasphemy, homosexuality, money, or movies, there is such a need for certainty that certainty often overtakes reason.

And that is why we as UUs often have such a hard time. We value reason – some suggest it is our deity – but at the very least, we cherish our doubt, honor our ability to see many points of view, celebrate our plurality and variety, both in matters spiritual and cultural (although we’re more dogmatic than we’d like to admit in regards to our culture – but that’s a topic for another day). The point is, we are so strongly attuned to questioning, reasoning, debating, that we don’t know how to handle certainty – particularly when it goes against all reason.

I bring this up, because it is a failing on our part to not understand this mindset.

We know, as Kevin Smith wrote in his film Dogma, “you can change an idea; changing a belief is trickier” but we have a hard time recognizing that what we think are ideas are beliefs for others. We are so tied into following ideas to a logical conclusion, we can’t understand how people simply take things on faith. We dwell so easily in a sea of uncertainty, we can’t understand how some people drown in it.

In her presentation at General Assembly a few weeks ago, Ellen Cooper-Davis encouraged us to learn more about the cultures we find ourselves in, and learn how to speak to others about our own faith in the context of their faith. In a keynote at a St. Lawrence District Assembly a number of years ago, Fred Helio Garcia reminded us that we must be literate in both ideas and language – “words matter,” he said, because “those who control the words control the world.”

We must get better at approaching those who are swimming in the pool of certainty, not by chastising their lack of logic, but by showing them love beyond the pool – showing them the beautiful shores, glistening with hope and openness, showing them the gentle waves of compassion, showing them the rich waters of love and faith. We can’t do it by shoving them off the pier. We have to do it by meeting them where they are.

We can combat the sin of certainty and open minds and hearts to the awesome, expansive, inclusive, healing love that some call God, when we know what we’re saying and how it is perceived. Let us be loving and gentle to those whose certainties we are shaking.

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As I completed the manuscript for my sermon entitled “God and Democracy” I realized that I write and speak more passionately as a Universalist than as a Unitarian. While my Unitarianism compels thought, my Universalism compels action.

I also know that my recent exposure to the Red Pill Brethren, as well as both Michael Tino’s Murray Lecture and Beth Ellen Cooper’s compelling presentation (“Occupy Your Faith”) further engaged my Universalism – that part of me that knows my power comes from my faith, is grounded in justice and compassion, that we are called to serve the family of humanity, to stand of the side of love, to make sure the smallest voice is heard, to do, to speak up, to act.

And so I delivered a sermon that was perhaps the most passionate sermon I’ve delivered, despite my feeling like death on a cracker. I demanded action of the congregation, but also of myself. As bad as I feel, I know I too have to be an active, willing participant in the lives around me. Who am I if I ask a congregation to serve the needs of those next door if I am unwilling to do it myself? Who am I to talk about mission and servant evangelism and the call of democracy as a call of faithful action if I am not going to act as well?

So my passion – my deep faith in a loving, benevolent God who, as Clarence Skinner remarks, “loves the universe, who hungers for fellowship, who is in and of and for the whole of life” – compels me to action, to be intimately and actively engaged with this amazing family of humanity.

Here we go. Are you ready? Am I ready?

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I attended General Assembly in Louisville last week, and I’m still high off the buzz. (Those who follow me on Twitter or are Facebook friends got quite an eyeful, as I joined many of my fellow attendees live-blogging our experiences.) In a nutshell, it is a transformative experience; I was an offsite delegate two years ago, but nothing beats being in the same space as over 3000 fellow Unitarian Universalists, seeing familiar and unfamiliar faces, hearing amazing lectures and sermons, listening to and singing tremendous music, being inspired by casual interactions and intentional conversations. Oh, and the shopping; there is nothing like walking into the Exhibit Hall the first time – I wanted to buy all the things! (I limited my purchases to a few t-shirts, some books, and a nice pin, but it was difficult at best!) While I am still processing some of the things I experienced and lessons I learned, I do wish to share some of what I gleaned with you (in no particular order):

  • Ellen Cooper-Davis’s workshop called “Occupy Your Faith” was one of the single most inspiring events I attended. In this session, she talked about ways to make our faith real and active and welcoming. Like Occupy, she said, our faith isn’t anarchical; rather, it is immediate and active, not an idea with manifestos and declarations. To help us get out there just DOING our faith, she gave us some great advice, using the acronym EAST(e)R:
    • E – Educate; we should know our history and our theology, and we should be religiously and Biblically literate so that we can talk to others but also within our communities.
    • A – Articulation; we must talk about our faith, but talk about them in the language of the culture we find ourselves in – in other words, we don’t automatically have a universal translator, so we must consider what our common phrases mean to others.
    • S – Service; not just ‘write another check’ service, but on the ground, present service to those around us. Who is next door? How are they hurting, and can we help?
    • T – Transformation; we are a transformative faith, and we cannot continue to be complacent.
    • R – Relocation, Redistribution, Reconciliation; it is actually inconvenient to live out our faith fully. It requires stepping out of our comfort zone, going places that are uncomfortable, living out our faith moment by moment.

 

  • Friday. Eboo Patel. Inspiring, brilliant, thought-provoking. Just watch.

 

  • Saturday’s Service of the Living Tradition was amazing; the music was led by the gospel ensemble at All Souls Church in Tulsa, and I can tell you the place was on fire. Add to that Rev. Vanessa Southern’s inspiring sermon. Add to that the experience of sitting in the audience and watching people around me being ‘called forth from the congregation’ in recognition of achieving ministerial fellowship or credentialing as a religious educator or music leader. Three of my friends from Union Theological Seminary walked, as did Schenectady’s Director of Religious Education, Melissa MacKinnon. What joy to see these leaders emerge from our ranks!

 

  • Sunday’s service was equally amazing; Rev. Dr. Bill Schultz preached an extraordinary sermon. He reminded us that we are fragile, but out of our fragility comes gratitude and trust – and we must thus act morally. I can’t do his words justice (they brought many of us to tears); go and listen. (Also, Meredith Lukow tweeted this:

“Blue Boat Home is like the Freebird of Unitarian Universalism.” – H. Roberts

…which led to a Twitter explosion of “FREEBIRD!” when we sang it during the service (and there is nothing like thousands singing with one voice a beloved song like that).

  • Youth! So many young people were there, so excited about being at GA but more importantly, about being Unitarian Universalist. These young people love our faith – we’re in good hands. I encourage you to look at the work the youth caucuses are doing, including campus ministry; I wasn’t able to attend the session on campus ministry, as it was during my own presentation, but there’s a real opportunity for us right up the street, and there are good materials to help make it happen.

 

  • Because I wasn’t sent as a delegate on behalf of my congregation, I didn’t attend many of the plenary sessions (where the business of the Association is conducted). However, that time was spent talking to people, hearing stories, learning about organizations like ARE (Allies for Racial Equity) and the Ministry for Earth. I ran into Rev. Sam Trumbore from FUUSA about a dozen times (who signed my copy of his new book during one of our encounters), but also had the opportunity to finally meet in person Rev. Erik Walker Wikstrom, who – in addition to having written the beautiful book Simply Pray – was my spiritual director the year I decided to attend seminary. It was nice to finally give him a hug of thanks for being part of my journey.

 

  • Though personally disappointed in the outcome of the moderator election, I know Jim Key will do a fine job. Meanwhile, outgoing moderator Gini Courter absolutely WOWED the crowd with her final report. It’s worth the watch.

 

I have so many more memories and lessons learned – from the Murray Lecture (sponsored by NYSCU) to the various worship services I attended – from seeing old friends from my UU Musicians Network days to the crowd of Union students/alumnae closing down a bar. I got to see good friend Reggie Harris, and emma’s revolution, and Brother Sun perform. I got to make new friends, like KC Slack, Nicki Drumb, Craig Rubano, and Elie Kirkpatrick. And I got to hang out with Union friends Emily DeTar, Valerie Freseman, Ranwa Hammamy, Sara Goodman, and Annie Gonzalez. And and and and….the memories and lessons are countless, but since this is already long, I will close simply with this:

GO.

Go to a General Assembly before too long. Next year, it’s in Providence, RI. It’s transformative and amazing and exciting and eye-opening and exhausting. It is worth it.

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A survey of stories from recent newspapers, news sites, and news blogs proves what we’ve long thought: the world is going to hell in a handbasket. Evidence includes the following:

Man-made climate change is causing massive disasters, unwieldy temperature fluctuations, species extinctions, and a pile of consequences we can’t imagine. And there are loud and attention-seeking deniers who make the work to address the issues all the more difficult.Voters are being disenfranchised by draconian state governments – with the worst of them targeting miniorities and the elderly.

Veterans are being slighted – they are homeless, suffering with PTSD and often addictions, they aren’t healing form wounds suffered in battle, and they are exhausted. And they aren’t getting their due.

Clean energy solutions are being sidelined in favor of outrageous greed and ill-advised big oil interests.

There are questionable practices over the war on terror that continue in the current administration.

A willful ignorance seems to permeate followers of one of the major political parties, with a clear and present danger to the reality of our all-American, Christian, politically moderate President.

Religion is being used as a weapon against nearly everyone – and ‘freedom of religion’ is being perverted for deleterious causes.

Sexual orientation and gender identity are being so demonized, our LGBTQ and genderqueer youth are killing themselves.

As a country, we have failed the First Nations miserably – and continue to do so.
Racism thrives.

Income inequality isn’t just a catch-phrase but a horrific reality that is causing starvation, homelessness, disease, and unease.

A party who campaigned on “jobs” hasn’t created one – and has kept the President from creating them, too.

Anti-union sentiments assault workers of every stripe.

Anti-education sentiments are destroying primary and secondary education – and threaten post-secondary education as well.

Freedom of speech and information are threatened by perplexing bills poised to destroy the internet.

I am outraged by them all. Every single cause (along with many more I haven’t listed) is worthwhile, needing support, focus, attention. But I have reached the bottom of my personal well of outrage, so I am asking for help.

As readers here know, I am a full-time seminarian and full-time editor. I did a great deal of my boots-on-the-ground activism in the 90s, when I had energy and youth on my side. But as I near 50, I find I don’t have the energy or the time. I can’t attend every march, can’t donate to every cause, can’t write thorough diaries on every abuse of power.

However, I can pick one, and run with it. The one issue that I’ve been carrying a torch for since I was a teen is the cause of women. And it is this torch that I need to focus on.

I remember as a young teen in the late 1970s, going to Girl Scout camp in upstate NY, learning about independence, strength, and equality from young women who were on the front lines of the women’s movement. In addition to the music of Holly Near and Cris Williamson, they taught us the words of Gloria Steinem, Betty Friedan, and Mary Daly. I emerged as a feminist (who knew how to build a camp fire and a lean-to).

I recognize that as a leading-edge GenXer, I inherited a movement already in progress: I didn’t burn my bras, because by the time I was wearing one, that had been done. I didn’t have to get the ERA on the docket, but I did implore state legislatures to ratify it. I didn’t have to fight for a woman’s right to choose, but I have continued the fight to ensure it remains legal. I have fought sexism in classrooms and in the workplace. I have fought for equal pay on a global and intimate scale.

I went for my bachelor’s degree in my early 30s and attended a southern women’s college, where I saw the next generation (closing-edge GenXers) reject the label “feminist;” I cannot count the number of times I heard “I’m not a feminist, but…” as they continued to speak a strong feminist platform. And I got to educate these women, who took the progress we’d made for granted, and show them all the places we still had work to do.

And now, here I am in my late 40s, and some things are better, but some things are horrifically worse.

I am outraged – and this is where my outrage must flourish. I am many things, but I am first a woman (technically a cisgendered woman, as I identify as strong female on the gender continuum). And the assault on me and my sisters has been so blatant lately, it is a wonder I can say we have made any progress at all.

Abortion rights are eroding on the state level, and many in Washington would see it be dismantled on the federal level. State-supported rape seems to be an optimal solution to the abortion problem – at least for men who cannot imagine the degradation and pain of transvaginal ultrasounds.Women’s reproductive rights are hanging in the balance, as the birth control fight surprisingly continues.

Health care is being denied to thousands of poor and marginalized women under the guise of “not supporting abortion.”

Daily, women are raped. And at least one presidential candidate suggests that a woman who conceives from this horrific act should bear the child anyway.

Daily, women are physically and emotionally abused. Yet the House GOP will not renew the Violence Against Women Act because it protects women they don’t care about.

Women are slandered on television and radio – and the typical male response is “it’s a joke.”

Women are vilified on television and radio – including movies, sitcoms, advertisements, and stand-up acts. All in the name of “comedy.”

Women are still being paid less than men, despite the Lilly Ledbetter Act.

There is so little regard for the women’s vote in the GOP, I wouldn’t be surprised if someone proposed repeal of the 19th amendment.

Women are being murdered for being women, are being mutilated, are being enslaved. Not just in other countries, but here in the United States.

Women are silenced.

Women are marginalized.

A few years ago, I thought I was at the end of my activism days – been there, done that, now it’s time for me to become a minister in order to help people of faith maintain that faith in the fight for justice. I heard my calling as a continuum of a life’s work – from learning to action to supporting.

But no more.

Oh, I’m still going to seminary and pursuing ordination. But I’m also standing up and taking active steps to fight against the invading hordes of 21st century medievalists who wish to silence my gender. I’ve rejoined NOW and Planned Parenthood. I’m attending various actions in my community. I’m writing letters and talking to people. I’m even helping in the fight against gender inequality in my seminary – a place that is light-years ahead of many theological schools but still suffering from the history of religion’s abuse against women. I’m seeking ways to ensure the very advances my generation took for granted don’t become part of a ‘used to be’ wish list for the next ones.

So please, I ask you, you who are outraged by the things I listed at the top of the page but may not have the energy to take up the cause of women, it’s okay. And please understand if I can’t engage in your outrage, as I’m too busy engaging in my own. Between us, we will share the burden and together, on many fronts, we WILL turn the tide.

 

Cross posted at Daily Kos.

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It was amazing.

The joint service, I mean.

I’m exhausted…but thrilled. And I feel invigorated.

Rev. Scott Alexander, lately of the Vero Beach congregation, shared a message of hope, excitement, and invigoration. He woke me up when he said that there are more people who believe they were abducted by aliens than are Unitarian Universalist. HOW IS THAT POSSIBLE? What are we missing? How are we not getting our message out?

For me, it helped me even more clearly define why I am hearing the call to ministry. Namely, I want more people to know. I have been so helped and healed by this faith, so invigorated and comforted by this denomination. If it can pull me from the depths and help me with major crises, surely it can help others. I want others to KNOW it can help them.

And of course, the question is “how”? We tend to be a cold and cerebral crowd… it seems the heart is missing sometimes.

I remember Kaaren Anderson speaking at District Assembly a few years ago (she did the Gould Discourse), and she used the “E” word: Evangelism.  Her point was that we too have incredibly good news to share, so we should share it. Indeed, much of what she shared was practical – getting feet on the ground, getting the congregation organized to handle the effects of outreach. But I have kept the word “evangelism” in my pocket since then, wondering how we can do it effectively and not offensively, wondering how to share our message, or at times, even what our message is.

It seems to me we’ve not done a very good job defining who we are and what we’re about. No wonder our symbol is the Question Mark…