The essence of the nativity scene is the startling incongruity of who gathers there. Mary and Joseph don’t belong in that barn. It’s no place for a newborn baby. What angel ever chose such a habitation? Add some pungent shepherds and overdressed magi,* and you’ve got a motley party indeed. Yet you could look a long time at the nativities that grace our homes, our churches, and our lawns without seeing any oddness in the figures collected there. Whether made of china, of resin, of plastic, of fabric, of wood, they seem invariably designed so that everyone in it fits. If Mary is made of shiny … [Read more...] about Inviting “the Other” to the Manger
Right Next Door connections
In October 2015 we hosted a conference focused on how churches and communities can better connect to people we have overlooked. That includes persons affected by incarceration, mental illness, sexual violence, domestic abuse, addiction, poverty and the like. Participants--and those who connect after that fact--are invited to continue the conversation. We've set up this page where you can comment and share what you're doing, how we can support you, what ideas you have and more. We'll be watching for your comments here! … [Read more...] about Right Next Door connections
“Show Us the Church Is for Real”
On a hot July morning, we trudged across a blank courtyard and up unadorned cement steps to a stark upstairs room. Some thirty of us outsiders found seats in clumps, waiting, until eighteen men in blue streamed into the room, our hosts, residents there at the men’s state prison in Chillicothe, Ohio. They circulated among us as we stood to greet them, with handshakes and some (initially) tentative hugs. So began three days of truth-telling and vision-casting, wreathed by razor wire. What was the truth that we heard again and again, from these incarcerated men? The church has failed us. A … [Read more...] about “Show Us the Church Is for Real”
Time Travel
This afternoon, totally out of the blue, I bumped into my eight-year-old self. Suddenly she was where I was, right there, so real I could touch her. (“Me”?) We were moving our son into an apartment in Pella. There are parts of Pella that I know as well as my hometown. Mom took me there every week for years—first for dance lessons and then for piano. We had family reunions there. I love the square, and the tulips, and Jaarsma Bakery. But today, as GPS directed us to my son’s apartment, I found myself in a part of Pella I would have said I didn’t know. We went straight east of the town … [Read more...] about Time Travel
Becoming Lee
The day I moved into my college dorm, I changed my name. It wasn’t some carefully planned strategy. It was, I think, the expression of something deep inside me that I hadn’t said even to myself up until that moment. The flurry of recent news around the white girl Rachel Dolezal who became the black girl Rachel Dolezal brings this experience back to me. I have some inkling of the itch that might generate such a shift. “I identify as black,” she says,even though her parents are white and her childhood photos depict a white girl. She claims, though, that she would draw herself using brown … [Read more...] about Becoming Lee
Failing
I wonder if I am the only one lamenting how I failed today. Again. Yes, we failed, but that includes I. Our collective failure is my failure. I speak of our Annual Conference gathering, the annual meeting of Iowa United Methodists. It’s a time of reunion and learning, decision and disagreement. Our Sunday was marked by great joy as we celebrated, commissioned and ordained those progressing into ministry and those retiring. We focused together through the teaching of Rev. Adam Hamilton. We shared meals and books and stories and hugs and good, nourishing conversations. Yet a pall lies over … [Read more...] about Failing