"As My Grandmother Sleeps"

My grandmother is 86 years old.
86 years of books and letters.
86 years of experiences, good and bad.
86 years of being.

She sleeps a lot now.
It's part of the dementia.
Slowly she is drawing away.

When she awakes I like to sit with her.
I make jokes about commercials with elephants in them.
"You don't need medicine for an elephant. You need a zookeeper."
She laughs.

She asks me to explain what's on the news.
I make up crazy explanations.
"He's really a Martian. That's why Oprah wants to interview him."
She laughs.

Mostly we are quiet.

I give thanks for the time we've had together.
Time talking about politics.
Time talking about religion.
Time talking about our family.
Time listening to learn about my past.
Time spent over ice cream and instant ice tea.
Time spent timelessly.

Valuable time.
I did not know how valuable the time I had with her was.
Now.... I do.

If now were then, she'd listen.
She'd offer advice.
She'd ask questions and clarify.
She'd encourage and build up.
She'd tell me to do good and help people.
Through her God would heal.

But now is now.
Now is different.
Time is short.
I am here for her.
Because she "is" and we "are" I am here.

So I sit quietly and wait for my grandmother to awake.
Soon, we will sit together.
I'll will make her laugh.
Mostly we'll be quiet.
That is enough.

Through her God does heal and I give thanks.

A Life Worth Imitating (21st Century Monks)

A Life Worth Imitating (21st Century Monks)

I just ended a three day sojourn with Cistercian monks at the Abbey of Gethsemane located near Bardstown, Kentucky (and also near the birthplace of Abraham Lincoln, which was unfortunately closed the day I went for a visit). I hadn't been to the Abbey since my Beeson experience, and had always longed to go back. I had always remembered the place as being quiet and had enjoyed singing the Psalms with the monks. However, since there were a few loving-but-somewhat-closed-minded members of my Beeson Class freaked out about all the Catholic religious imagery (not to mention the veneration of Mary, an image of the "feminine divine" which always makes virtually all Protestants uncomfortable on some level), I wondered what it would be like to go by myself without others unpacking their theological baggage (because Heaven knows I have enough of my own).

Verdict: It was a good experience. 

There's something about the monks singing (or chanting in the Gregorian sense.... we didn't sit around going "ohm, ohm, ohm") those Psalms on a regular schedule that's calming. Reassuring. Maybe even hopeful. There's something about knowing those guys are singing Psalms each and everyday that's reassuring. It's a sign of "groundedness" in a world that's ever changing. A mark of God's never-ending devotion to us via the monks' devotion to the world on behalf of Christ. It was just good. 

My favorite service of the day is "Compline", the final service of the day. I told my wife that my impression of Compline is the monks are singing lullabies to one another, the world, and the Lord. In addition to the Psalms, the monks sing this prayer: 

Before the ending of the day

Creator of the world we pray

that with thy gracious favor thou

wouldst be our Guard and Keeper now

From fears and terrors of the night

defend us Lord by thy great might

and when we close our eyes in sleep

let hearts with Christ their vigil keep

O Father this we ask be done

through Jesus Christ thine only Son

who with the Paraclete and thee

now lives and reigns eternally

Amen

My last sermon before I left was all about imitation. Are you imitating the life of Christ and are you discipling someone else so their life might be imitating the life of the Christ? I was thinking about this as I worshipped the Lord with the monks. Monks are all about imitating one another as they seek to imitate Christ. This is their attempt to be just like the disciples: They are seeking to imitate His disciplined simple lifestyle, prayer life, dedication to the Father and world, life of reflection, and even the fellowship he experienced with others. 

I'm not saying that Jesus acted, dressed, and ate exactly as the monks do today. The lifestyle of the monk is Jesus' lifestyle re-imagined into a particular context and for a particular purpose. Jesus and disciples seek to unfold the Kingdom of Heaven into the world. The monks are in their own way and specific place, attempting to live out into that Kingdom. They readily admit that their particular lifestyle isn't the only concrete example everyone should follow. Theirs is a specific calling, just as we are called in some specific kind of way. But the object of their calling is the same as the calling of every other disciple of Jesus: Through faithfulness and devotion to the way of Jesus, create the opportunity for others to find the rest, grace and peace made real in the Kingdom of Heaven now and forever. The monks follow the example set for them for the sake of the Lord and their neighbor, hence the opportunity for anyone to come and retreat with the Lord and from the pressures of the world. So should it be with us and others everyday in our home, in our presence as the church.

It's really the question of what example I have been setting that I take with me on this journey, but it's the question of what example I want to set I need to bring back home. 

This is what really drove me into this current journey -  all that's comforting and everything else that vexing about how I'm imitating Christ - to a monastery (and beyond) for some unpacking and reflection. Because just like the abbot of those Trappist monks, I have a responsibility in some way, shape, or form set an example and create an environment where people can both imitate Christ ultimately for the sake of God and others. Somewhere along the way what this looks like for me personally in the specific context of where I live and work has gotten muddled and confused. 

So I suppose on some level I'm looking for some variation of the order the monks live out every day. And while it probably doesn't mean singing Psalms and praying prayers seven times a day (eight, really, if you also count their daily Mass), wearing a robe, and making a fudge, the idea that everything in our life should be designed to bring honor and glory to God by creating a place of hospitality for all restless souls makes a lot of sense. Or as my friend (and current host) Paul Rebelo puts it, "a life built on serving 'The Other'". A place created through holiness, helpfulness, prayer, grace, mercy, and a vision focused on imitating a life dedicated to the restoration and liberation of others in a Kingdom built on love and not force, should be the essence of every church, every home, and every heart that calls Jesus, "Lord". 

The world needs some 21st Century monks. What that order looks like is what I'm chasing.

A House Re-Purposed for Hospitality

A House Re-Purposed for Hospitality

On the first day of my journey heading toward the Abbey of Gethsemane after eating dinner with Nevan, I stayed at a bed and breakfast, Tucker House, located in the Louisville Metroplex. I took advantage of the "Traveler's Special" which made the stay more expensive than a night at a Motel 6, but a lot less expensive than a night at a Holiday Inn Express. Since I had my fill of sketchy hotels during the research period of my dissertation (Example: I stayed in a Howard Johnsons in Dallas where apparently someone was shot in a drug deal gone bad, a fact I learned in a newspaper the day after I checked out), I opted for the Tucker House.

If you are in the Louisville area I couldn't recommend the place any higher. It's very nice and clean. The house is decorated to the period it was built (the antebellum south). The breakfast, which was made by the proprietors, Devona and Steve Porter, was killer... absolutely fantastic. And it was nice and quiet. Will definitely take Aimee there someday.

I had the opportunity to interact with Devona during breakfast. They serve the meal in what I can only describe is a large Sitting Room framed with large windows overlooking their property equipped with a dining room table. It's adjacent to the kitchen and you can see the person cooking at the stove through a serving window. As Devona made my veggie omelet, cherry-nut scones, and gourmet bacon (told you the breakfast was killer.... they also served a grapefruit which was halved, sectioned, the top coated with turbinato sugar, and warmed on high under a broiler for five minutes.... sprinkle a few blueberry on the top and give it a try) she told me a little bit of history of the house. Apparently original owners who built the home, the Turners, were slave owners, and the wife, Nancy Jane Turner, was known to be a brutal master. 

To be honest, that bit of information creeped me out, and truth be told would have deterred me from staying in that building had I known it in advance of booking. As a Christian I don't believe in karma (the concept of which, as I understand it, in Hindu culture is more about the supernatural measure of a life as opposed to the "what goes around, comes around") but if there was such a thing, a place with a brutal slave owner I'd think would be thick with bad vibes. 

But upon further review, a couple of things occurred to me. First, the Porters, given their understanding of the home's history, make sure people of all cultures and races are made to feel welcome (and in fact all different types and kinds of folks have stayed in that home under their care and watch). Since they purposed the home to provide hospitality, that's what it does now (and they do it very well). The history of the place, which is pretty sinister, isn't determining it's future. The current owners, after much painstaking and extensive restoration, have restored the structure to it's former glory, but have redeemed its purpose. In a place which was oppressive, now there is a welcome for everyone. There's a good sermon in there somewhere.

And the other reflection I might share is that while Tucker House is now living out as a "second act", so too are it's owners. Devona talked about how one day while working in a marketing company in a job she hated, one day she just snapped and without provocation indicated to her boss that she was quitting. A month later, after wrapping up her work and handing off her assignments, she was unemployed, wondering about her future. At the time recently remarried, Steve asked her if she could do anything professionally what would it be, and she answered, "Own and operate a bed and breakfast". Now she's living the dream. 

Of course I'm sure it's not all roses and cream as a B&B operator. They might occasionally, for example, get a boarder who when asked if it's OK for breakfast to be served at 8am, will look at them like they have three heads (I'm on retreat, man) or drink all the diet ginger ale in in their hospitality fridge. But at least the new problems that are now hers are different than the old problems she could no longer carry. That, and she carries them with someone else whom she loves and loves her back. For Devona, I think there is a grace manifested in the reality of her life each and every day just by waking up. 

And so it should be for all of us.

Dinner With My Publisher

Dinner With My Publisher (Sounds Kind of Hoity-Toity Doesn't It?)

The first day of this journey I stopped in Louisville to have dinner with my publisher, Nevan Hooker. Nevan not only owns Minister's Label Publishing, but he is also the man behind ONLY144.com, which is a website making available resources of all kinds for children's ministry. While I can't say either one of us got rich trying to ride the coattails of Bob Russell, we both learned valuable lessons from the experience. I hadn't talked to Nevan in a couple of years, so this was a chance to figure out what those lessons were (beyond me not ever wanting to go though the process of writing a book again in someone else's voice).

I won't get specific in regards to Nevan (his story will someday make a pretty good book itself) but in the case of this book, his willingness to be entrepreneurial not only closed a few doors, but opened a few new ones. That's what we talked a lot about over a nice dinner. If you are willing to, as Nevan so aptly put it, "throw some spaghetti up on the wall to see what sticks", life is bound to get a little bit messy. Nothing ventured is nothing gained, but everything gained has a cost, and sometimes the price paid is pretty dear. The price might just be money or time, but it could be a relationship, profession, and even the threat of your sanity. That's way life works sometimes, I suppose. When you think outside of the box, some chapters in relationships and institutions close, and while pages turn to reveal a new chapter of growth, hope, and opportunities.

In Nevan's case one door closing (working in a huge church in Louisville) because he was seeking to open a lot of new doors, led to new doors being open (or namely, the creation of ONLY144.com). For Nevan there have been rewards and costs, but ultimately it's enabled him to do what he set out to do. It was interesting and informative to listen to him reflect on all the changes this has meant in his life. It was also interesting to find out for the first time the degree of risk he took to publish that book as he was seeking to make things happen. 

Leaving dinner I couldn't help but reflect on the chances I've taken, and both the cost and reward of those risks taken. Giving up on law school meant getting the chance to go to seminary. Giving up on taking a small church meant getting to take advantage of the opportunities that come to staff people and associates in larger churches. Walking away from the WOC meant learning a lot about myself in the pressure cooker that was the IGRAC, and ultimately getting to live and serve in Goshen at First UMC. Giving up the chance to go to Indianapolis meant getting the chance to find out what it's like to live and work in Lima in my current capacity. On and on it goes..... the road not taken and the journey made.

In any event, it was great to see Nevan and here how well things are going for him. Here's hoping a national fascination with Bob Russell sweeps the country and our book gets downloaded by the millions. But in the event that doesn't happen, you'll be in my prayers Nevan. Can't wait to see what your next adventure holds.

Getting Serious About Staying In Love With God

The United Methodist Church has three - and only three - general rules.

1. Do Good
2. Do No Harm
3. Stay In Love With God

I've always had a clear sense of what it's meant to do good as a pastor. I've always tried to keep this at the top of the list and pushed the congregation hard to do good in the process. Unfortunately, sometimes when you try to do good, people often end up feeling harmed. They think they are getting left behind or choices are made that conflict with their priorities. So ministry for me has largely been a balance between trying to do good, and doing my best to help people heal when they feel they've been harmed.

But somewhere in the midst of doing good and doing no harm, staying in love with God ended up being placed on the back-burner. Outside of my daily Upper Room devotional (which I highly recommend) all of my study and reflection went into the work of the ministry. All my energy went into trying to keep everyone focused on heading in same direction, trying to work out whatever differences came up, and work through moments of brokenness. Little energy was going into working on the one relationship that needs to be right, so that all the other ones rest on solid ground.

This has taken on me, personally, a real toll. I must credit my wife with forcing me to acknowledge this. As a member of our staff for the last couple of years, she's experienced first hand the complexities of this work. The difficulties of trying to keep everyone focused on fulfilling all three, The Great Commandment:

"The most important commandment," answered Jesus, "is this: 'Hear, O Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is one. 30 Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.' 31 The second is this: 'Love your neighbor as yourself.' There is no commandment greater than these."

(Mark 12:29-31) 

The Great Commission:

18 Then Jesus came to them and said, "All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. 19 Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, 20 and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you. And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age."

(Matthew 28:18-20)

and The Great Requirement:

8 He has showed you, O man, what is good. And what does the LORD require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.

(Micah 6:8)

It was Aimee who begged me to just take some time, and go seek God's presence. It was the SPRC and staff of Community UMC who gave me the blessing to do so (for which I am thankful).

So I'm taking some time off from the ministry of the Lord, to just go chase the Lord. You've heard of a "date night" where couples set aside a night once a week or once a month to reconnect, focusing only on one another over dinner.... this is time I'm setting aside to just be in God's presence. To let the Lord know that every other relationship I have will only grow and flourish if I'm right with Him first.

I'm going to listen to Trappist monks chant the Psalms just like they've been doing for 1200 years. I'm going to spend some time some other folks who want to figure out how to be spiritual and holy, and not still not be overly weird. I'm going to visit some friends of mine who are ministers who have been down this road and know what it's like. And I'm going to visit my grandmother whose health is deteriorating slowly, and ask the Lord to be present with her.

Mostly, I'm just going to invite God to speak by getting away from the noise, and go to a place where I might be able to patiently listen. To go find that place Jesus always went away from the crowds where he could sit in his Father's presence.

In the meantime Daniel Hughes and our Lead Lay Pastor, David Imler, are going to take care of preaching at the Shawnee Campus. Charlotte, Daniel and our staff will all be available to serve and guide you. Christ's wonderful ministry will continue at this church... and with a little prayer your pastor will come back refreshed by Living Water and Bread Alone Which Satisfies.

I'll preach this Sunday, and then you won't see me again until early February. Until then, do good, do no harm, and stay in love with God.

God Bless,
Bryan

On A Day A Smile Is Needed (Or How I Survived My Fourth Grade Year)

Kind of in a funk today. I'm finding that the post sermon letdown is lasting longer than it did a decade ago. It makes it harder to shake off the fog and get things done on Monday. But that's a post for another day. Today, I just thought I'd write about something good. An experience I go back to on days like today to find a little clarity, and maybe even a smile.

My fourth grade year was, looking back now, a strange one. My father took a job in a Lima with the firm he is still with, so for the duration of the fourth grade he traveled back and forth between Charleston, West Virginia (where we lived) and his job (where he lived during the week with his mother). 

To complicate matters, right before this job change, for reasons still never fully explained to me, Mom and Dad bought a house in Charleston in what was for us a new neighborhood. There was a kid who lived there, Brad Lesher, who simply hated my guts. I don't know the reason why I threatened him, or irritated him, so much. All I know is that all I wanted was somebody to play basketball with, and Brad made that, if not wholly impossible, somewhat unpleasant. So we were apart as a family for a whole year while my parents tried to sell a house they had just bought in a neighborhood populated by one complete ass. 

It was a crappy year.

My mom did her best. The two of us living alone must have felt as strange to her as it did to me. Dad usually took the pressure off when he came home from work. We'd throw a baseball or something, and as a parent who understands the need for one now, she could get a break from her adorable yet demanding son. But that dynamic, and so many others, were all thrown off that year. Mom rose to the occasion to keep thing as normal as possible (we'd even occasionally toss a baseball around), but it had to be tough for her.

For any younger readers out there, I must inform you that in 1979 Al Gore hadn't invented the internet yet so there was no Skyping, or endless minutes on a cell phone. People could only look at one another on a screen while talking in the world of cartoons, like "The Jetsons". You didn't have all the vehicles for communication you have now, so there was no digital way to help bridge this gap. 

But I digress...

The entire year for me had this pall hanging over it. Life without Dad was strange enough, but from the first moment he took that job, just like in the movies, the time clock was set on the bomb that was about to destroy life as I knew it. 

No more days at Elkland Pool. No more feeding "Midnight" ice cubes while my parents played cards with Pam and Harry. No more sledding at the Powelsons. No more camping, or for that matter no more anything (worshipping, basketball, softball, picnics, etc...) with our church family who had become such a huge part of our lives. No more Shoals Elementary School. No more hanging out with the only friends I'd ever known. 

In many ways, in my little 9-year old brain, that whole year felt like an ending. A period. The end.  

Now don't get me wrong.... I've grown to love what I now call my hometown, and realize how in so many ways the move was the very best gift my parents could have ever given me. I would have never have known my grandparents. I would have never have made so many long-lasting and important friendships. I never would have never met Aimee and welcomed my sons into this world. My life is all the richer for the decision my parents made to move home closer to family and friends.

But all of that during the 79-80 school year meant squat, so it was hard to enjoy anything. Everything we experienced was "the last one". The last basketball game. The last spelling bee. The last trip on my bike down the trails to Olin's Market. The last Charlies game. The year was just a series of "lasts".

If Friday night (usually after "The Incredible Hulk" and "The Dukes of Hazzard" were over) was the best day of the week because it was when Dad would return from Lima, then you would assume Sunday nights - when we left to go back to work - should have been the worst. And they probably would have been, except this is the part of the story where I begin to smile. Into this mixed up world, our friends reached into our lives, and in small ways helped ease the burden.

When we first moved to Charleston (when I was two or three) we lived down the street from The Reeves. Jason Reeves and I were same age, so our mothers, I suppose, saw an opportunity. One of my earliest memories was taking turns riding Jason's little battery operated plastic motorcycle down the street from our house to his as our mothers walked slowly behind us. We were northern transplants, Buckeyes planted in a place where we didn't know anybody. Nancy's family lived on land given to them by George Washington. Jason still lives on that land, and it wouldn't surprise me if at some point, at least one of his children will do the same.

I guess pretty quickly the Reeves, and Nancy's parents, Arthur and Louise Connor, decided they needed to take us under their wing. As strangers in a strange land, they welcomed us. Most of my fondest childhood memories in one way or another involve the Reeves family because they showed us wonderful hospitality and friendship.

It should probably come as no surprise that the Reeves, who had done much to try to help us integrate into the Charleston social scene, saw an opportunity to serve us on Sunday nights as we made our slow exit from the mountains that had become our home. On his way out of town, Dad would take us to their house and instead of Mom and I sitting at home missing him after he left, we'd have pizza with the Reeves. 

It's hard when you are nine to be upset while you eat pizza. It's pretty much impossible, actually. And that, I think, was the idea.

Jason's dad, Jack, did the best he could that year to fill in for Dad where he could. I remember him even telling me if I needed a Dad when my own Dad just couldn't be there, all I had to do was call him. When someone says something like that you don't forget it. When that same person does what he can - like get a pizza on Sunday nights to divert your attention from the pending changes that are coming, no matter what, in your life - you tend to treasure those words. Keep them safe in your heart. 

And when you are acting like a jerk, even go back to them and wonder if you can't do a better job living up to the example set for and investment made in, you. 

Jack and Nancy are gone now, both of them taken too early by cancer and disease. I was married with kids of my own when Dad and I drove down for Jack's funeral. I remember telling Nancy how much their kindness that year - my fourth grade year - still meant to me.

"Well, we love you Beano", she said. "We did then, and we do now."

They did, and that makes me smile.  

A Letter from a Community Summer Academy Teacher

Aimee and I received a "Thank You" letter from one of the teachers at the Community Summer Academy. It's edited a bit for length, but I think you'll get a sense of the ministry's impact. For those who don't know, forty children mainly from the neighborhood around The Future Church spent four days a week for six weeks under the leadership of Director Nicki Hughes, with three great teachers, multitudes of unpaid servants from both Community UMC campuses and The Future Church, working on academic skills and enjoying summer long VBS. They ate breakfast and lunch with us. The cost of the program was about $9000. The cost to the children and their families was zero dollars.

The kids improvement in terms of reading was measured throughout the summer, and the results were astounding. Kids on the average, if they were behind, got caught up with their grade. Most kids advanced beyond their grade for the coming year. While gazillions of books were donated for kids to read, the favorite book for each child was the new Adventure Bible they received and took home when the CSA concluded the end of July.

To get an idea of the impact, here's the letter we received.



Dear Bryan and Aimee,

I am sorry it has taken so long to write. The days have passed and I still cannot find the adequate words of appreciation for being part of the Community Summer Academy. The six weeks have been life changing for me. What a privilege. I am blessed!

I would like to thank you and your church, Community UMC, for nurturing the vision of CSA. Your members funded a possibility and made it a reality.

It is wonderful to hear the positive reports from parents, grandparents, family members, friends, and our students. Overwhelmingly "Christian Ed" was named the favorite activity. Our children are hungry to know bout God, his son Jesus, and salvation. Each had their moment when Holy Spirit brings understanding and some clarity. 

I will never forget a little girl's moment in my class. She turned wide eyed and in awe said, "Miss Tammy, did you know Jesus is no longer dead?" What a moment! 

I never would have thought our students would have preferred to read the Bible over popular books like "The Drinking Gourd" or "Number the Stars" for reading instruction. We had scheduled time to read and discuss the Bible during Christian Ed, however our guided reading instruction soon evolved to center around Bible stories. The students loved their Bible and enjoyed reading and discussing what God said to them through them.

The students also had their favorite worship songs. "Crazy Love" and "Where You Go" were sung every day the last couple of weeks of CSA. Also, while initially I was the only one who would say a prayer in the classroom, soon several students began to volunteer to pray. Our morning prayer and closing prayer time blessed me so. I know they moved the heart of our Heavenly Father.

What a blessing! Bible reading, worship, prayer, math, writing, gardening, guided reading, computer lab, media literacy, and my highlight of the day, the "Yea God Moment". Our students would tell of God's intervening power in their lives. Many shared how God made them feel better after their classmates prayed for them. Several shared how God helped them in track or dance competitions. The Lord is so real in their lives. What a blessing!

How amazing it has been to watch our students faith in the Lord develop and grow. May the Holy Spirit continue to abide in each of their hearts as we continue to pray for each child daily. Also may we pray for the vision of CSA and what is yet to be.

In closing, thank you for financially supporting the CSA and making it possible. I think of the song, "Thank You for giving to the Lord." Thank you servants who gave generously of your time. thank you those who prayed for the CSA, the staff, and the children. You have touched my heart and changed my life. I know you have blessed the heart of God.

Sincerely,
Tammy Bush


Jesus is no longer dead, indeed. He is alive. Thank you all for faithfully committing to this ministry!

God Bless,
Bryan