Annual Bleeping Conference

It's two days away. I just can't wait (insert sarcastic tone and rolling of the eyes here).
We're now looking hard at two and a half days none of us will ever get back.
We will do several things. We will be led in worship by someone who has done Spectacular Things in other places. Things that most of us would be moved from our churches for doing back home, as a result of complaints from the natives to the same conference leaders who are bringing The Star in to show us how to do things right.
We will listen to arguments about money. Specifically, arguments from pastors and members from our largest, wealthiest churches who have every bell and whistle on their properties and staffs, telling the rest of us why they shouldn't have to pay the lion's share of the way, in spite of having the lion's share of everything.
We will listen to (largely) mindless debates on way too many constitutional amendments, conducted by (largely) misguided people who think they are doing the Will of God, who will have their talking points from whatever interest group they represent well-memorized for easier regurgitation. And both ends will try to scare the middle with the Secret Intents of everyone who disagrees with them. And at the end of all of it, we will find, to paraphrase The Bob, "I looked beneath the sofa, beneath the chair; looking for them Gays/Homophobes everywhere; I looked up my chimney hole, even looked deep inside my toilet bowl; they got away!" And we will be left with nothing again, as, to quote the late, great Billy Preston, "Nothing from nothing leaves nothing."
I, for one, will leave Annual Conference calculating again at what speed Mr. Wesley must be spinning in his grave. Because we haven't done much of anything in the last decade, at least, except take the temperature of the institution that has become the bloated, dying carcass of The United Methodist Church, and find it to be lukewarm. As in "spew you out of my mouth" lukewarm.
So all is lost? Not so fast.
I went to church this afternoon.
John Kilzer played at the Italian Festival in Marquette Park on this glorious Friday afternoon.
John is like many of us, a middle-aged guy, but young in ministry, with an old soul nurtured by the collision of music that enriches our native turf. He, like the rest of us, knows some parts of the world too well, but writes, plays and sings spectacularly of the hope and promise and joy that are supposed to be at the heart of this faith we profess and are supposed to share.
John reminded me that the faith isn't Annual Conference. Hell, the faith certainly isn't my short-sighted, terrified congregation. God's ability to change lives through the presence of the living Christ is the story.
And one of these days God may even get around to bringing church to Annual Conference.
Hey, they say stranger things have happened...

Melancholy, Fun and Weird

It's been an up and down couple of weeks. While I am (slightly) happier with my government today than I was prior to January 21, I'm not really thrilled with the Department of [doublespeak=Defense, honesty=War]. Two truly fine families have been reassigned from our local Navy base to far away locations. This makes the tote board read three families in my current assignment ripped from our congregation. Of the first departure, the wife and mother is the most able and knowledgeable lay person I have ever been privileged to have serve alongside me in any setting anywhere. Anne is awesome, and should be a church professional in some capacity, and she is far more than competent to be a church professional any number of capacities. The husband and father in family number three is one of a group of active duty Navy men who made a commitment to our Cub Scouts, and then did stupendous things. Like growing the pack in one year from 37 to 84 boys. Like standing up with those kids for some of the genuinely good values in the world. With his colleagues, Tom made a huge difference in this program, and that means in the lives of each of these kids. Family number two is comprised of one of the neatest 4 year olds on the face of planet earth, a mom/wife who is as creative and generous as anyone you've ever met, and a dad/husband who was the best partner I've had (so far) in a Lay Leader in 24 years under appointment. Joe, you know who you are, and I know you look at this from time to time, so...THANK YOU, AGAIN, FOR EVERYTHING!
And there's your melancholy.
For the fun...we baptized two and confirmed four young people last Sunday, and we will be baptizing two more and confirming five more this Sunday (don't ask--it's about vacation schedules, custody decrees and the like). In four years at the current stop, I've had the high privilege of baptizing and confirming significantly more people than in the other 20 years combined. Yeah, seven of those other years were spent pastoring in the retirement homes, but still! I just don't think that it gets any better for Christian minsters than being allowed to participate in the growing of the faith of such a group of young people. It is, after all, pretty much the point.
And the weird...this year about to start should be the last one here. By the time four years are up, there are always people who are after your rear end, and I've got two or three of those. When you combine what will be five years of chewing by the same sets of teeth, with the growing pains of a quickly-expanding community, with the frustrations of being unable to implement the painfully obvious and simple changes that would allow the church to grow into what the community needs it to be, I feel strongly that five years will be enough. For them, I believe, and certainly for me.
I remember the sports reporting that Pat Riley had lost the ear of the players on the Miami Heat before he went back to presidenting the club last year. I think I'm starting to understand what they were talking about.
A few years ago my father had a church in a community that was about 15-20 years ahead of where we are right now. He had a very tough three years there, perhaps the most difficult years of his working life. He buried a few saints that had to go for things to move along, and when they were gone, and his work had taken him to a new assignment, things did indeed smooth out and run well so that that church became what its town and our conference need it to be.
I expect something similar to take place in my assignment. It just feels a little weird that I probably won't get to share in it myself. I have laid and am laying some of the groundwork. Someone else may have to drive in the connecting spike, to use an image from the completion of the Transcontinental Railroad. How's that for obscure, Dennis Miller?

Thanks, Mom!

Yes, it's Wednesday night after. But that's pretty close for me.
One of the really fun things that goes with my getting used to being a grandfather is watching my parents become great-grandparents. Mom has taken to keeping Kaly just like she did with Sara and Emily a generation ago. Every time I see my granddaughter in my mother's arms, I am reminded of just how much Mom was my partner in raising my kids. On the occasions when something work-wise came up during all those afterschool afternoons (God Bless Paul Eubanks, a truly great man!), Mom was there. Every trip to the zoo or the Pink Palace, Mom was there. Vacations-especially the first couple of years when I was paying for the divorce and they paid for everything-couldn't have taken place without Mom every year and Dad most of them. We never could have made the Disneyworld trip with the girls being 9 and 6 without Nana going, too. It's just not simple being a single dad of two little girls in a public place without an adult woman. Mom made it work. Mom was always there.
She still is. Sara's working hard. Shannon and I have to work, too. Same with Emily, although she holds an amazing amount of time for her number 1 niece. Nana still fills all the gaps. But that's what she has spent her whole adult life doing, from the time she married while still a college student, to becoming a mom without a car or even a drivers' license while her husband was several hours away all week every week in graduate school, to being a mom to three kids all under the age of 4, to becoming an outside-the-home-working mom with that same husband and those same kids to take care of, to all I described above, and as much attention to her other four grandchildren from their births to the one she added when he was 12, she has always been there.
And I am grateful. Much more than I can say.
And we're all better people for her commitment to each of us.
Thanks, Mom! I love you!