My new neighbor was working in his yard when I walked by the other day so I stopped to chat. He told me that a couple of hours earlier he had been struggling to move a large stone to a new place in his flower garden when a fellow he didn’t know came by on his walk and offered to help.

“I’m not sure I would have been able to do it without his help,” my new friend told me.

He went on to describe the helpful stranger and I realized it was George, another neighbor who lives a couple of miles away and is known for his long walks.

“A tall fellow, really nice.”

“Yep. A good guy for sure. He helped us with Operation Santa Claus at the elementary school and does a lot in the POA.”

Here’s the back story that I am sure my two friends don’t know:

The new neighbor goes to a church that has decided to pull out of its denomination because its leaders feel like it needs to make a stand against full inclusion of the LGBTQ community. I don’t know where my friend is on this and I doubt he is aware that I know this is going on in his church.

George is gay and is happily married to Dave.

Again, “I’m not sure I would have been able to do it without him.” Hold that thought while I share some more from my life.

I have a good friend that has shown me that being a Christ follower often requires courage and faithfulness. She’s a lesbian. I have another friend, a wise teacher and Bible scholar, that has helped guide me through change and painful times. He’s gay. Another that is crazy smart and one of the most insightful, loving people I know. He’s transgender. I could go on for a while but hear what I’m saying. These aren’t people I’ve simply met or read about. They are dear friends, family, I am not sure I would be able to do it without them.

That’s what distresses me so much about the present crisis of the United Methodist Church, my church. In just a few weeks we are going to be deciding our stance concerning human sexuality and there are many that are all in on making sure that we say to the LGTBQ community that they need to change who they are in order to be fully accepted.

It hurts me to type that. For one, it hurts because I do not believe that is true. I believe that they are fully accepted, not by me but by God, just as I am. My sound Biblical and Theological defense of this statement can wait for another time. Mostly it hurts because I don’t think we will be able to do it without them.

Hyper-partisanship is starting to wear on me. I’m tired of walking up to people that used to make my heart sing when I saw them and wondering if they are happy to see me or are they thinking, “There’s Jim with the crazy theology and ill-informed political views.”

It seems like there is always something to fuss about. This week the argument buffet offered everything from the silly (hamburgers at the Whitehouse and razor blade commercials) to the serious (government shut down and racism). It doesn’t matter what it is. We’re like Pavlov’s dog. Someone reports something and we all throw on our team jerseys and get busy trying to prove that the other team is completely wrong. Every week it’s deja vu all over again. The one thing every media outlet agrees on is that we are living in an us/them world.

Two things:
1) I find it hard, very hard, not to get caught up in it.
2) It is not even remotely close to God’s hope for us.

I became even more certain about that second one as I recently pondered some very familiar lines.

First of all, it jumped out at me one morning that The Lord’s Prayer sure says our, we, and us a lot. That’s three “ours”, five “us’”, one “we”, not to mention a petition for God’s will to be done on earth, as opposed to God’s will being done in a particular country, state, or group of people, and just to bang home the point, the first “our” is the lead-off batter. Not a single “I” or “me”.

Secondly, I was recently reading something by Cynthia Bourgeault and she pointed out that the great commandment, “love your neighbor as yourself,” doesn’t say “love your neighbor as you love yourself.” Note the difference. If it was “as you love yourself” we would first seek to love ourselves, then we would seek to love our neighbor, a separate person, in the same way we love ourselves. You’ve probably heard things along those lines. But, loving as yourself means you see your neighbor as an extension of you. In other words we/our/us is one. We not only share the same planet and the same time, we are as connected as my ears are to my eyes; one body as the Apostle Paul says.

Oh, and don’t look for a loophole by asking Jesus to define neighbor. Another guy tried that and it kinda blew up on him. Turns out Samaritans, in other words those folks that you are sure are out, are in.

Again, this is not to say it isn’t hard. Our prayer also mentions trespassing; or debts or sins, depending your religious family. It also talks about forgiveness and being delivered. Irritations happen. There will be times, obviously, when we disagree; often about important things. There will be times when we are called to speak the truth, to remind one another of justice, and remind one another to listen to the better angels. There will still be times that I am completely baffled by your opinion and there will certainly be times that you think, “There’s Jim with the crazy theology and the ill-informed political view.” But I’m going try to stop wearing any team jersey other than the one that says Christ and I’m going to try to remember that even if you happen to be sporting a different one that particular day, underneath you are wearing the Christ jersey too.

Giving in to division is giving in to a lie. It is destructive. Our Father, forgive us.

I journeyed through Advent this year wrestling with my current life’s persistent question: If a preacher retires to the forest, does he make a sound? Somehow I emerged into the new year with a new motto for 2019: To do the concert even if no one is coming.
It came to me as I watched the YouTube video, II Andante (Rutter’s Gloria) that Andrea Lingle of Mission Wisdom Foundation suggested as part of an online course, “Advent: into the Light and Dark.”
It was a concert piece that featured a huge orchestra and choir. Every member was dressed immaculately, the musicians in the strings section moved their bows as if they were synchronized dancers, and of course, the music was wondrous.
There were so many people on stage it occurred to me that they could possibly outnumber the audience. Then I wondered, what if they did? What if there were twice as many people on stage? What if there were only a handful of folks in the audience? What if no one came? Did they still make a sound? Of course they did. It was an offering.
And there it was: To do the concert even if no one is coming.
To do the concert; to sing the song, light the candle, write the book, love others, make an extravagant offering, smile at the guy in Walmart, speak truth to power, hug my wife… Do the concert; learn my part, practice, buy the suit, get there on time, give it my best, offer it…like the lily no one ever sees, like the waterfall that cascades when no one is there, like the crow that shouts “look!” and no one hears, and yes, like the tree that gives up reaching for the sun and crashes to the earth, to do the concert – even if no one is coming. Not because some day in heaven the guy from Walmart will walk up and say, “Man, I sure needed that smile that day.” Do the concert because we are invited to join the orchestra, to be a part, to play a tune for the Creator, even if no one else hears.
A couple of life times ago, I was a house painter and the fellow I worked with always painted the tops of the door frames, edges of the baseboard, behind the toilets, everywhere that lacked paint, even if no one would ever see it. His reasoning? “The angels will see it.”
More recently, one of my hiking buddies and I took our lunch break on a large stone that had been sitting right there, watching a billion years unfold. As we ate our p-nut butter sandwiches, we marveled at the tiny flowers on the wilderness floor, the massive hardwood trees all around, the crazy blue sky behind the leaves, and the noisy creek below us. We breathed mountain air and heard several birds calling out.
“Boy, God sure is wasteful with beauty,” my guy said. “I think you mean extravagant,” I replied. He slowly nodded, “Yes, yes I do.”
To do the concert. To join in the extravagant concert.