CrossOver reflection for Week 43 • Beginning September 29, 2019
We Make the Road by Walking, Chapter 4

Rev. David Valera

It was one of those moments when something spoke so powerfully that it stunned me. After a few moments of figuring out why this social media image so genuinely captured me, I realized that it spoke words I have been searching for and wanting to say.

I have long wanted to name and describe a growing emptiness within me. Significant events have adversely affected my life these past few months — the sad decisions of General Conference 2019, my dad’s passing and then having to leave my mom in the Philippines, the uncertainty of a future for of The United Methodist Church. 

And as I read and reread the description of Catalano’s sculpture, the words became louder and louder.

THERE IS A VOID CREATED BY LEAVING ONE’S COUNTRY, FAMILY AND ONE’S PEOPLE FROM ANOTHER LIFE.

I am learning that being an immigrant in the United States comes at a very dear price. Not only in terms of distance from my birthplace and family but also in the way I am perceived. I did not come here to steal someone’s job — just one of the barbs thrown casually around at immigrants, which is harder to brush off.

To many immigrants, leaving one’s life and culture behind creates a deep sense of emptiness. They do not know how they will flourish, much alone survive in an environment that is new and foreign. One has to face and be willing to endure the hardships of racism, prejudice, bigotry, and racial bias. It does not matter who or what you were where you grew up. You are now in a foreign country where your skin color is your primary identity. Your ability to speak the language determines whether you get what you are asking for, not what you deserve. And you will have to make decisions on how all these experiences define you and your legacy. You are now the pioneer of your new identity.

As a first-generation immigrant, I know that there is no “Immigration for Dummies” book to ease the process. And if there was one, (I googled) that premise itself is wrong, as it assumes that immigration can be simplified and interpreted as a dummy move. For every immigrant, there is a deep-rooted “WHY?” behind this life-changing decision. Whether it’s fleeing from conflict, economic depression, or the pursuit of opportunities in career, livelihood or calling, whatever the reason, the decision will never come easy. Just as depicted in the sculpture, immigrants arrive with a lot of emptiness.

And often, that decision to move to a new setting is not just for the person making the decision. There could be a whole family line of 1.5 and 2.0+ generation immigrants affected, who also have to deal with the crafting of new identities as well.

Filipinos are known for our hospitality. We like to celebrate the blessings of life through meals, music, and hospitality. Rich or poor, it does not matter; hospitality is in our DNA. We have been taught to serve, care for, and help. Maybe that is why you will find a majority of Filipinos/ immigrants working in those industries. So many times, folks assume that I work for either a hotel, a cruise ship, or a hospital. And I probably could. That is perhaps the image that I bear — a brown-skinned, English speaking adult, who likes to help, laugh with, and enjoy conversations with others. A receptionist. Ta-dah! 

Funny, but that’s still a racial bias.

In “We Make the Road by Walking,” Brian McLaren reminds us how humanity has been set to be image-bearers of the Great Creator. We are in a relationship with God who invites us to live with generous desires, to create, to bless, to help, to serve, to care for, to save, and to enjoy. 

This makes a great parallel to the words inscribed on the Statue of Liberty: “Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, The wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door!” 

To immigrants, those words have been and continue to be welcoming, inspiring, and life-giving.

So now as an American, I often ask myself, “What image do I bear when I come across another immigrant? Do I become threatened, defensive, and afraid? Or will I dig deep and live out my value of hospitality and welcome.

And what image should I bear when I am in the midst of the dominant culture? Inferior and weak? Bitter and angry? What about living out God’s call to be co-creators of a world that thrives in peace, justice, joy, and love?

Brian reminds us of the stories in Genesis, where the choices of Adam and Eve, and Cain and Abel, led them to become rivals with God, resenters, blamers, and murderers. It all revolved around the drama of desire. “The desire to acquire what someone else has, the desire to compete and consume, the desire to judge evil those who get in our way, even the desire to harm or kill those who are obstacles to our desires.” 

I pray for the day when I will not be seen as the enemy because of my skin color, a day when immigrants are not branded as killers, rapists, and drug dealers. 

I pray for the day when humanity lives to respect and care for each other, lifting each other in prayer and thanksgiving, for we know not what burdens we each bear. 

I pray for a day when we all bear the peace of God, as we make the road by walking.

Amen.

Rev. David Valera serves as Executive Director of Connectional Ministries for The Pacific Northwest Conference of The United Methodist Church.

Image Credit: “Les Voyageurs” by Bruno Catalano via Pinterest

CrossOver reflection for Week 42 • Beginning September 22, 2019
We Make the Road by Walking, Chapter 3

Rev. Donna M.L. Pritchard

Lately, I have been thinking about the power of patterns in my life. It seems we all adore patterns. Nature is full of patterns—the delicate design of a butterfly’s wing, the growth rings of a tree’s trunk, the tiger’s stripes, the snowflake’s symmetry—all patterns that speak to us of stability and sensibility. We love patterns. So it is no wonder we fall unconsciously into our own patterns of love or of fear, patterns of gratitude or miserly suspicion, patterns of hope or despair. These patterns will create reality and define possibility for us if we let them. If we are not awake to the warp and weave of each moment in life’s tapestry, the patterns we do not notice can take us away from God’s original creation of us and can obscure the intent of the Creator.

The good news is that patterns are not necessarily fixed and permanent. Old patterns can be changed and new ones can be created. So I am wondering…what have the patterns of your life created in years past? Do you like the tapestry you have woven to date? Are there ways in which you might choose to change the pattern right now, or create a new one altogether?

Each January, instead of creating an impossible-to-keep New Year’s Resolution, I choose a word for the year. This is a word I use to focus my attention and to ground myself in the patterns I want to embrace. This year my word is HOPE. In choosing that word I thought about my hopes for patterns of beauty and peace, patterns that create meaning and open the way for love. I also thought of the challenges facing our United Methodist Church as a denomination and the hope I have whenever I remember God’s abiding presence with us. I thought of the possibilities that abound in mission and ministry here at home and the hope we can offer to the world beyond our walls. I thought of the hope we long to see fulfilled in the created order and in humanity itself.  

The beginning of John’s Gospel speaks to me of the pattern of hope we find in God’s relationship with the world.  I particularly like the way Eugene Peterson paraphrases John 1:16-18:

            We all live off this generous bounty, gift after gift after gift.
            We got the basics from Moses, and then this exuberant giving and receiving,
            This endless knowing and understanding –
            All this came through Jesus, the Messiah.
            No one has ever seen God, not so much as a glimpse.
            This one-of-a-kind God-Expression, who exists at the very heart of God,
            Has made God plain as day.

Prayer for the Day:

Loving God, you create and sustain patterns of love and hope, goodness and possibility in each of our lives. Help us to notice the patterns we create. Help us to receive your grace to change our patterns in light of your love, in response to your hope, to mirror your goodness and create new possibilities for all your world. In the name of your one-of-a-kind Expression, Jesus, your Christ… Amen.

Rev. Donna M.L. Pritchard, Senior Pastor of Portland First UMC, believes that faith ought to be a pathway to joy!  As a pastor, she helps create a deep sense of joy in spiritual growth, compassion, and social justice ministries. When not working, Donna loves spending time with her two adult daughters, walking her Corgi, laughing with friends, painting silk, playing the piano, traveling and reading “just for fun”. 

Donna also serves as Chair of the Western Jurisdiction’s Leadership Team.

CrossOver reflection for Week 41 • Beginning September 15, 2019
We Make the Road by Walking, Chapter 2

By Rev. Erin Martin

The family backpacking trip has become a summer ritual. Our sons, Elijah and Rowan, don’t always love it, hiking in the woods for 30-40 miles over a few days. Inevitably, my oldest will groan, “Why can’t we vacation like normal families?” and by that, he means Disneyland. But there is something incredibly simple about carrying what I need with me, nothing more nothing less, and walking out into the wilderness. Without fail, the first night under the trees, by a rushing stream, or at the base of a mountain, I can feel the stress of life begin to melt from my body. I feel myself becoming fully human again.

Let’s face it. Being human, these days feels especially hard. I am easily overwhelmed by the “gloom and doom” of the daily headlines — increased gun violence, climate degradation, political turmoil. I find myself clenching and shrinking over the “not good” of human activity that Brian McLaren explains so clearly in Chapter 2 of We Make the Road by Walking. In this chapter, McLaren traces human rebellion to an original wilderness and our first decision to “play God.” 

I see it unfold in myself every day, the temptation to judge others, to define myself over and against other people. I experience it in the created order that can lead us all toward the seemingly inevitable way of increased hostility and violence. McLaren, however, urges us to remember that human judgment is always a choice. We can balance our bent toward rebellion with the truth of our place in God’s original blessing of creation. 

McLaren invites us to change our posture by opening up our hands toward embrace. We can become fully human when we daily take into ourselves the refrain of God’s first sacred litany, “light-good, seas-good, animals-good, humankind-very good.” As an image-bearer of God, I can choose to participate in the reciprocal energy of giving and receiving blessing with others and with all creation. 

Recently, Native American spirituality has been increasingly informing my understanding of the interconnectedness of all things, trees- breath, oceans- rhythm, land- provision, humankind- family. Disconnected from other people and the created order, I will be only partially human. Connected to others and to all creation, I become whole. 

What about you? How do you become more fully human?

Rev. Erin Martin serves as Superintendent for the Columbia District in the Oregon-Idaho Annual Conference of The United Methodist Church.

CrossOver reflection for Week 39 • Beginning September 1, 2019
We Make the Road by Walking, Chapter 52 

Rev. Daniel Miranda

About 12 years ago, while serving a church in central Washington, I experienced one of the worst times in ministry — seven funerals in eight weeks! It was exhausting and depressing. There was a sense of dread as the congregation and I navigated through each of these weeks. And yet, these were not simply funerals; they were celebrations of faithful women and men who had served, worked, loved, and made a difference in our community. Every so often, I remember those months and recall both the sadness and the promise of homecoming for those faithful people to their Lord. I hold on to some good memories and wish there had been more time with these dear friends.

From this side of existence, it is impossible to know what it will be like in the end. Brian McLaren says that some anticipate “catastrophe” and “collapse” while others imagine “a Big Celebration.” Like our author, I dream of a celebration where you and I are welcomed by God, even though we are prodigal children. Then, we will finally understand the fullness of love and grace.

But before we arrive at the end, we have our own smaller endings in our everyday lives: cancer, conflict, grief, disappointment, separation, and pain of all kinds. It is impossible for me not to acknowledge that we, as a denomination, are in the midst of the end of something. Maybe it will be the end of our disagreements about human sexuality or the end of our denomination as we have experienced it since 1968.

I have to take a leap of faith and trust that God, in the end, will make things good for you and me. I have to have confidence that God, in the end, will make things good for our greater United Methodist family no matter what transpires. Do not mistake my faith and hope for strength or fearlessness — it is not!  I think that for most of us, as we walk this road of life and faith, do so with trepidation and anxiety — if you don’t, I would like to know how you do it!

The first paragraph of this chapter begins by talking about what scientists think will happen in the end. I wish that we could have that kind of certainty where we could do some research and crunch the numbers and say, “There is a 90 percent probability that if we do this it will end well.”

We have the powerful words of Jesus to remind us that we are always welcome in God’s home and that we will be greeted with open arms of mercy and grace. We have the words of the Apostle Paul reminding us that we are “more than conquerors.” I take these words to heart whether I am thinking eschatologically or merely trying to make sense of things at the end of a stressful day.

Rev. Daniel Miranda is currently serving his fifth year of appointment to First United Methodist Church in Auburn, Washington. He also serves on the PNW Council on Finance and Administration. When not engaged in ministry Daniel also enjoys playing racquetball, time with family and cooking.

CrossOver reflection for Week 38 • Beginning August 25, 2019
We Make the Road by Walking, Chapter 51 

Rev. Jim Doepken

“Dan the Man” was a bus driver known to many kids at the United Methodist Junior High Camp I counseled at, many…many years ago in Indiana. His story was compelling. He had given his life to Christ after hitting rock-bottom with drugs and alcohol. He would dramatically show campers his stitched-up tongue; repaired after eating a light bulb in a drug trip gone wrong. He shared his story and told these impressionable kids (and counselors) that they didn’t want to be “left behind” when Jesus came back. He would shout “Rapture Practice” in the mess hall, having all the kids raise their hands and scream in what I felt was a raucous and less-fun version of “The Wave.”

I was young, but I still remember being uncomfortable every time he’d loosely quote from Revelation to add to his stories. It was just one part of my uneasy relationship with this book.

Before Indiana, I grew up in New York. Revelation was not a book I remember spending any significant time with. I appreciated meandering through Matthew’s Gospel. I had seen “Godspell” and “The Cotton Patch Gospel” so, clearly, I had a broad theological perspective. I dabbled in Paul and loved the Old Testament stories from Sunday School. But, not Revelation. No, Revelation was a book quoted by TV preachers with their four horsemen, seven seals, and 144,000 elect from every nation. This was too many numbers for any book that wasn’t required for Middle School math.

I remember one of those TV preachers comparing Russia to the beast from Revelation. The “beast” was coming to the Persian Gulf, and we needed to stop it. I think this was a Biblical justification for going to war with Russia in the 1980s and it was just as confusing to me then as it is now.

Later, though, seminary blew my mind. There was a whole lot more going on in Revelation than I realized. Life was messed up for Christians under Nero and Domitian in the Roman empire. There were Christians just trying to survive under madmen who demanded people to worship them as gods. Violence and fear ruled the day, and this book was a complex code with an intended message of hope. Here, my TV preacher and “Rapture Practice” understandings of Revelation were (pun intended) “left behind.”

Brian McLaren puts it this way in We Make the Road By Walking:

“As literature of the oppressed, the Book of Revelation provided early disciples with a clever way of giving voice to the truth—when freedom of speech was dangerous in one way, and remaining silent was dangerous in another. Instead of saying, “The Emperor is a fraud and his violent regime cannot stand,” which would get them arrested, Revelation tells a strange story about a monster who comes out of the sea and is defeated. Instead of saying, “The religious establishment is corrupt,” it tells a story about a whore. Instead of naming today’s Roman empire as being doomed, they talk about a past empire—Babylon—that collapsed in failure.” (p. 255 Kindle version)

Yet, I still kept running from Revelation, even during my first year in ministry. It was then that I attended a continuing education event on “Biblical Storytelling” about which I remember almost nothing—except for one thing. We discussed stories of the Bible that could work well in worship, and someone mentioned that the Book of Revelation would be a challenge. I jumped all over this, bringing up my problems with its symbolism and how it had been co-opted to support hawkish military policies.

A young pastor said, “Oh, you don’t need to run from it. I can summarize the Book of Revelation in two words.”

I was listening.

“God wins,” she said.

I had learned that Revelation was a message of hope to persecuted Christians in a troubled time. But, when I was told, “God wins,” it was a revelation for how this book spoke to my present situation and world. It meant that no matter the struggles…no matter how oppressive political systems and leaders may be…no matter how much the denomination I love fights over including ALL people…no matter which beast or dragon or horseman is spreading some contemporary version of famine and pestilence…. NO MATTER WHAT, GOD WINS.

God wins. God will have the final word. Our God is “making all things new.”

McLaren says:

“Even if the emperor is mad, Revelation claimed, it’s not the end of the world. Even if wars rage, it’s not the end of the world. Even if peace-loving disciples face martyrdom, it’s not the end of the world. Even if the world as we know it comes to an end, that ending is also a new beginning. Whatever happens, God will be faithful and the way of Christ—a way of love, nonviolence, compassion, and sustained fervency will—will triumph. (254-5)

God wins.

This, for me, was a Revelation revelation.

This is the perspective I need as I read the papers, watch the TV, plan my sermon, and, yes, live through this CrossOver year in our denomination.

We know the ending. God wins.

Jim Doepken is pastor to the congregations of Seward and Moose Pass United Methodist Churches in Seward, Alaska.

CrossOver reflection for Week 37 • Beginning August 18, 2019
We Make the Road by Walking, Chapter 50

Rev. Deena Wolfe

My heart sank when I heard those words. My dad had been declining for two years, but I was not ready for the reality of what those words meant. I felt both fear and sadness, and I knew that his days on this earth were short. I was preparing to begin work as a hospice chaplain, and over the next 3 ½ weeks, orientation became personal. 

“It’s time to consider hospice.” 

For ten days we sat in vigil for him, and a little over four years ago he stepped off this earth and into glory. It was a beautiful and very emotional time as we went from brief moments of conversation together to him slipping into a coma and then taking his last breath. 

This experience has enriched my ministry as a grief counselor and hospice chaplain with deep empathy for those who hear the word “hospice.” The reality of death is now staring you in the face. Our culture does not give fertile ground to the discussion of life and death and the grief that comes along with it.

Everything in this world is moving from birth to death. People die, relationships end, corporations go out of business, churches close. How do we move from a place of paralyzing fear to embracing the possibilities that come with the death of something or someone we love? 

As people, it is natural to feel fear of the unknown. When my dad was dying, he suddenly opened his eyes wide and said, “Wow…. mom’s going to be shocked!” He saw something on the other side which we couldn’t see, something which was amazing and beautiful. He was unable to share with us what he was seeing, but the joy and wonder on his face were unmistakable. They brought great comfort as we mourned this time of separation. The picture above was taken by my brother, the evening before dad died. For us, this was dad’s angel, coming to guide him home.

In this week’s chapter of We Make the Road By Walking, Brian McLaren writes:

“As we walk this road, we not only remember the past, we also anticipate the future, which is described as a great banquet around God’s table of joy. When you pass from this life, do not be afraid. You will not pass into death. You will pass through death into a greater aliveness still – the banquet of God. Trust God, and live.”

This principle applies to relationships with the people that we love but also has great meaning with all the uncertainties we see in the church today. For there to be new life, death must occur. God is with us in every part of our lives, from celebrating the birth of a new life, or a new ministry, to mourning with us in the pain and sorrow that occurs when a ministry ends, or someone dies. 

We are invited to embrace “hospice” moments in our everyday lives. Hospice provides supportive relationships, individuals walking together, shepherding the person and their family members on the road from life to death. We trust that the Spirit who brings us life will lead and guide us through these times of uncertainty into a place of deeper relationship. 

Part of our Wesleyan heritage is the value of the experiences we have in our lives. Whether an experience is filled with joy or sorrow, or birth or death, there is something valuable to be gained, a piece of wisdom to be pondered for use later. May we take great comfort that our triune God–Creator, Christ, Comforter is living and active in our lives–from before birth to after death.

Rev. Deena Wolfe serves as pastor for Valley-Veneta United Methodist Church in the Oregon Idaho Conference as well as a Hospice Chaplain for Cascade Health in Eugene, Oregon.

CrossOver reflection for Week 36 • Beginning August 11, 2019
We Make the Road by Walking, Chapter 49 

Rev. Katie Ladd

Like a lot of pastors, I had to change my sermon at the last minute last Sunday because of yet another shooting—wait, no, two mass shootings, one in El Paso, TX and one in Dayton, OH. Of course, these were not the only shootings around the country last weekend. In Chicago, one article I read said there were five shootings. There was even a shooting Sunday morning in Seattle. At the least, the shooting in El Paso was fueled by white supremacy. It’s hard. The soul gets so weary. What can we do with the weary soul? How do we believe in God’s good vision with so much violence all around us?

In chapter 49 of Brian McLaren’s book We Make the Road by Walking, he focuses on the role of judgment in bringing about reconciliation, harmony, and healing. Called “Spirit of Holiness,” he tells us this:

“Jesus promised HIS followers three things. First, their lives would not be easy. Second, they would never be alone. Third, in the end all will be well. But all is not well…how does God get us from here to there? How does God put things right?”

McLaren believes that judgment is the way that God puts things right. It is the way from here to there. When deployed correctly, judgment isn’t just a punitive tool. It is a wise action that names harm and sets to work at redressing it. Its goal is restoration. In the end—in the “final restoration”—everything will be made new.

Many of us have very complicated histories with the word “judgment,” and so we shy away from it. For many of us, it can seem unredeemable. What would it be like to embrace it—not as it has been used to harm, demean, and ridicule—but as a justifying act? How would that call us to act as a community? Can we possibly divorce “judgment” from “judgmentalism?” It’s an intriguing thought.

Even if we decide that we can’t use the word “judgment,” perhaps we might employ the Spirit of Holiness to address the brokenness in our society. We could allow the Spirit of Holiness to move us closer to God’s good vision for what our shared lives might look like. We need God’s restorative action around our country’s addiction to violence. God’s Spirit is required to move us to deep change. Such change would include more than social media expressions of outrage at yet more lives lost.

In addressing the white supremacy at the heart of many mass shootings, we have to tell hard truths, truths that in the end liberate us all. In addressing the deep pain of suicide by shooting, we tell hard stories of isolation and desperation. In addressing the insidiousness of domestic violence that ends in gun violence, we reveal closely held secrets of family dysfunction. Truth-telling must be part of moving us forward in our communities. Truth-telling is a purifying fire that burns up the garbage and leaves the substance of life behind. This is the work of the Spirit of Holiness.

At The Well, we invite people to give us guns so that we might transform them into garden tools. This practice will not end all violence in all places. The quest for one answer to do all of that work is folly. However, transforming one gun is a symbolic act that centers us on life in a death-obsessed culture. It is part, if a little one, of changing our relationship with violence. This, too, is the work of the Spirit of Holiness.

If you feel despondent at the violence all around us, remember the three things McLaren tells us are Jesus’ promises. Life as Jesus’ disciples isn’t easy. Bearing witness to violence isn’t easy. You are not alone. In our communities of faith, others accompany you in bearing this witness. Also, you are not alone in your deep soul weariness. Many of us share in it. And, when we employ the courage to see and name harm and redress them, we move, even if only by fits and starts, closer to God’s dream for us and the world we share.

Rev. Katie Ladd is the pastor of Queen Anne United Methodist Church in Seattle, Washington. She is also the founder and director of The Well.