We leave today in confidence and honest celebration.
Last night at the Goodsoil Celebration, Lutherans Concerned Executive Director Emily Eastwood told us that she had spoken to the Bishop and that he had said, when asked, that not only should we celebrate, we were commanded to celebrate! Not that the time of empathy and concern for others is over, but it has been a long, long road for the Lutheran LGBT community, and we have worked hard -- not just this week, but for 8 years and even longer. We have won the right to celebrate the arrival of our community into the life of the church. It is sweet, even as it is bittersweet. Yes, it is sweet.
And so we celebrated. We listened to a great band playing traditional hymns (including A Mighty Fortress) in a folksy rock style, we danced, we talked, we laughed, we cried a little more, and in good Lutheran fashion, we ate. It was good.
***
I don't think I've mentioned yet -- we wore colorful shawls all week -- knitted and crocheted by loving, supportive Lutheran hands all over the country. We were wrapped in their prayers as we did our work, and we were invited to take them home after our work was done here. I took two. The one I used for my own work and prayer, and the one I used in support of Goodsoil on the assembly floor. I also haven't mentioned this -- the Goodsoil Legislative Team had a signaling system for allied voting members so that they could navigate the complex voting procedures of amendments to amendments to the main motion and such. Some of the motions might have seemd friendly on the surface but were actually presented by our opponents to dilute or undermine the goal of full inclusion. So, at the direction of the floor leaders, several of us would stand on either side of the visitors section at the back in either a red shawl, which signaled a No vote, or in a yellow shawl, which signaled Yes. I volunteered to be one of the signalers, and it was a privilege to be able to make such a concrete contribution to the proceedings.
At any rate, I'm taking my yellow shawl home as a remembrance of the small part I played in bringing this historic legislation to pass. Every time I look at it, I will think, Yes! We did it! We are all now full participants in the life of the church! Praise God! I think I'll wear it to church for a few weeks, and then on the anniversary of this week each year, so if you see me in bright yellow, you'll know why.
Be prepared, though. Our work of this week is not done. We at Grace will continue to play an active role in the necessary healing and reconciliation process for the church. We talked last night about what we can do. The most agreeable idea was to visit other churches in Houston, starting with congregations where we know there is a contingent of quiet supporters alongside opponents, in order to witness quietly to God's grace and welcome, to pray for change and healing at the local level, and to participate in graceful engagement with anyone who will talk with us.
The process will be slow and painstaking, but we at Grace have been called, through our charter as a Reconciling in Christ church, to be agents of reconciliation to all people. If you are interested in participating with us in this work, talk to me or to Pastor when we get back, and we'll put you on the list. We'll even offer some graceful engagement training of our own, if you'd like.
***
We went out as a full group (minus Hal) last night to celebrate together. We went to a fun British pub on Nicollet Mall, the restaurant strip in downtown Minneapolis. While there, I had a marvelous conversation with a young French tourist who was curious about the Lutheran proceedings. Very well-educated and discerning, a real thinker, he was raised in a very strict and unforgiving religious environment in Paris, and now questions the existence of a gracious God or a loving, inclusive church, at all. It was an honor to be able to tell him about the ELCA -- not just about our recent changes, but about our (by and large) progressive understanding of Scripture as evidence of a God who has loved the creation passionaltely throughout history. He wondered why I needed church when it is possible to love the neighbor even as a secular humanist. I told him that, for me, it is because the music, the ritual, and the community feed me. He could appreciate that. Then he asked me about all of the damage that has been and continues to be done in the name of organized religion. Again, I was able to tell him about God's over-arching grace, and how some of us in religious communities do our best to be that grace to the world, without judgment and self-righteousness. I admitted that, yes, there has been and continues to be a lot of damage done, but that I believe that even more good has been done in the name of Christ than not.
I was keeping the rest of the group waiting, so I had to reluctantly take my leave, but I praised God as I walked back in to them that I had been given the opportunity to witness in such a significant way, and that I had been given the words to speak. Most of all, though, I thanked God that I could present my church in such a positive and grace-full light. What a blessing the church is to me! And what a blessing it can and should be to the world, as well. It's up to us to get the word out. I'm glad that we're doing so well at Grace. It will be good to get home.
Peace,
Laura B
Sunday, August 23, 2009
Saturday, August 22, 2009
Rest
A quiet day on the floor, so we slept and did some sightseeing. The drama is over for now, and Goodsoil Central is quiet.
Bridget has rejoined us after several days at a Danish Lutheran convocation somewhere in central Minnesota. We had hoped to have our full Grace contingent together for a final night celebratory dinner, but Hal had to go back to work yesterday. We were never all together here at the same time, but the presence of each was felt throughout, as was your prayerful presence at home.
We do return home tomorrow, leaving after the assembly's closing worship in the morning, and after the noon closing business session.
It has been an exhausting, emotional, and anxiety-filled week, even as we did our best to rely on the movement of the Holy Spirit and on the words of Bishop Hanson's opening sermon which encouraged us to not be victims of fear, but it was hard. It is still a rather anxious time now, even as our celebration continues. The threat of schism still hovers (although I don't personally believe that it will be widespread), and we remain in prayer for those in pain. I look forward to the Bishop's parting words. As I've said before, if any human has the potential to hold this church together, I have full faith that it is he.
This is not the first time, by far, that the Christian communion has faced schism. As far back as the early apostolic church, there were heated disagreements over the outreach to the Gentiles, and yet they held together. In our own time, decisions to support the integration of our churches, the validity of inter-racial marriage, and the ordination of women threatened the Biblical understanding of many Lutherans, and yet we are still here. It is my conviction that, while we may see some people leave the ELCA, the unity of the church will be, by and large, held intact. The bottom line is that we all love this church and what it stands for, or we never would have even gotten to this point. If we did not love this church, people of differing sexual orientations and gender identities and their allies would have left long ago. And I believe that opponents of full inclusion will largely hold on, as well.
My overriding feeling at this point in this assembly's proceedings, even in my somewhat anxious place, is a strong feeling of the Spirit's gentle and loving presence. I believe that God is hurting with us and for us right now, and that the Divine pain will inevitably lead to Divine healing and reconciliation. God is at work here -- I have no doubt of that.
Peace,
Laura B
Bridget has rejoined us after several days at a Danish Lutheran convocation somewhere in central Minnesota. We had hoped to have our full Grace contingent together for a final night celebratory dinner, but Hal had to go back to work yesterday. We were never all together here at the same time, but the presence of each was felt throughout, as was your prayerful presence at home.
We do return home tomorrow, leaving after the assembly's closing worship in the morning, and after the noon closing business session.
It has been an exhausting, emotional, and anxiety-filled week, even as we did our best to rely on the movement of the Holy Spirit and on the words of Bishop Hanson's opening sermon which encouraged us to not be victims of fear, but it was hard. It is still a rather anxious time now, even as our celebration continues. The threat of schism still hovers (although I don't personally believe that it will be widespread), and we remain in prayer for those in pain. I look forward to the Bishop's parting words. As I've said before, if any human has the potential to hold this church together, I have full faith that it is he.
This is not the first time, by far, that the Christian communion has faced schism. As far back as the early apostolic church, there were heated disagreements over the outreach to the Gentiles, and yet they held together. In our own time, decisions to support the integration of our churches, the validity of inter-racial marriage, and the ordination of women threatened the Biblical understanding of many Lutherans, and yet we are still here. It is my conviction that, while we may see some people leave the ELCA, the unity of the church will be, by and large, held intact. The bottom line is that we all love this church and what it stands for, or we never would have even gotten to this point. If we did not love this church, people of differing sexual orientations and gender identities and their allies would have left long ago. And I believe that opponents of full inclusion will largely hold on, as well.
My overriding feeling at this point in this assembly's proceedings, even in my somewhat anxious place, is a strong feeling of the Spirit's gentle and loving presence. I believe that God is hurting with us and for us right now, and that the Divine pain will inevitably lead to Divine healing and reconciliation. God is at work here -- I have no doubt of that.
Peace,
Laura B
The Big Day
Friday. Starting first thing in the morning, the scheduled session on ministry recommendations. There are four of them which it was decided by this assembly are to be considered separately. Before we could even get started on the first one, though, we had to deal with a substitute resolution from the floor which, if passed, would have gutted the positive recommendations altogether, as it called for the assembly to approve language that declared homosexuality a sin. This was blessedly voted down by the assembly by a pretty significant margin, and we moved on to the original resolutions.
The first was stated in this way: "Resolved, that in the implementation of these resolutions, the ELCA commit itself to bear one another's burdens, love the neighbor, and respect the bound consciences of all." This passed relatively easily, with most people arguing that those who would oppose full inclusion would most certainly be burdened by the church's decision, and that we must be willing to reach out to each other in love.
The second read: "Resolved, that the ELCA commit itself to finding ways to allow congregations that choose to do so to recognize, support, and hold publicly accountable life-long, monogamous, same-gender relationships." This one was much tougher, but after much debate, passed. This resolution does not mean that the church endorses same-gender marriage, but rather that it allows those ELCA churches who wish to do so to bless such unions.
The third (and most controversial), is the one about allowing the rostering of people in same-gender relationships: "Resolved, that the ELCA commit itself to finding a way for people in such publicly accountable, lifelong, monogamous, same-gender relationships to serve as rostered leaders of the church." As of the worship and lunch break, debate on this resolution was still not completed, as we returned to that debate after 2 pm, at the next business session.
Eventually, after extended, impassioned debate on both sides, we won full inclusion with the passage of resolutions 3 and 4 (the last being a long implementation process). The debate and the votes, masterfully led by Bishop Hanson, were bracketed by heartfelt prayer and song. When we won, it was rather eerily silent in the assembly hall, as we mutually acknowledged the gravity of what had just happened.
This whole thing has been unexpectedly hard for me, and, I think, for many others on my side of the debate. While I remain firm in the convictions I brought with me to the assembly, listening to the debate has brought something very painful into my awareness.
Early on in the week, Barbara and I had a discussion about the cost of losing this debate -- for both sides. I maintained at the time that the cost was greater for our side than for theirs. That our loss would be a personal, human loss for all of the individuals affected and for those who love them, but that the other side would just be losing an abstract, theological argument. Get over it, already.
I held that opinion loosely until this morning's debate. As much as I've tried to listen openly to the opposition to this point, I've never experienced their very real pain until today, and it was overwhelming to me. These people do not just hold abstract theological positions. For them, following the Bible as they understand it is the core of their faith. It is personal. It is very real -- and emotionally charged. To take a major step away from the foundation of their faith -- to say that what they've always believed the Bible to be saying is wrong -- shakes their world almost beyond recognition. They are, by and large, good, loving, fatihful Lutherans who really do "love the sinner" even as they "hate the sin."
I heard their pain from the microphones today. The pastor who cried as he spoke of his struggle with this issue, as he welcomed LGBT people into his church with an open heart, but simply still can't escape his conviction that homosexuality is sin. He was crying, he said, because he was afraid that he would have to leave the church he loved because it has so thoroughly departed from what he considers accurate Biblical teaching. He was in very real, personal pain -- trying desperately to do the right thing as he felt called to do, but feeling instead that his church is turning its back on him.
Then there was the lay woman who shared that her sister had called her, hysterical, after the sexuality statement vote, declaring that she would just not be able to set foot in a Lutheran church again. The speaker also shared that her father had declared that he would not be able to kneel next to her at the communion rail again. She was crying, too, as she related the loss of her entire family because of these decisions.
While I clearly do not agree with these folks' positions on policy or on the interpretation of Scripture, I still felt their very real pain in my heart and in my gut. It hurt me. I wanted nothing more than to go to them, share Christ's peace with them, and encourage them to engage in healing with me, but I know that time is the only true healer, and that my overtures at this point would be inappropriately premature.
My prayer, then, is that some day we will be able to come together on the common ground of Jesus' grace, and agree to disagree on this, even as we stay in communion with one another. Graceful engagement does not end here at this assembly, I realized. We must remain in full engagement with these hurting people throughout a time of healing, no matter how long that takes.
I agree with retired Presiding Bishop Herbert Chilstrom, who said at Goodsoil's service of hope and healing last night that this is a bittersweet vistory. We need each other in the body of Christ, this church, and someone else's pain is our pain. Let us not, in our celebration, then, ever forget that, and let this prayer for reconciliation always be at the tops of our hearts and our minds.
Peace,
Laura B
The first was stated in this way: "Resolved, that in the implementation of these resolutions, the ELCA commit itself to bear one another's burdens, love the neighbor, and respect the bound consciences of all." This passed relatively easily, with most people arguing that those who would oppose full inclusion would most certainly be burdened by the church's decision, and that we must be willing to reach out to each other in love.
The second read: "Resolved, that the ELCA commit itself to finding ways to allow congregations that choose to do so to recognize, support, and hold publicly accountable life-long, monogamous, same-gender relationships." This one was much tougher, but after much debate, passed. This resolution does not mean that the church endorses same-gender marriage, but rather that it allows those ELCA churches who wish to do so to bless such unions.
The third (and most controversial), is the one about allowing the rostering of people in same-gender relationships: "Resolved, that the ELCA commit itself to finding a way for people in such publicly accountable, lifelong, monogamous, same-gender relationships to serve as rostered leaders of the church." As of the worship and lunch break, debate on this resolution was still not completed, as we returned to that debate after 2 pm, at the next business session.
Eventually, after extended, impassioned debate on both sides, we won full inclusion with the passage of resolutions 3 and 4 (the last being a long implementation process). The debate and the votes, masterfully led by Bishop Hanson, were bracketed by heartfelt prayer and song. When we won, it was rather eerily silent in the assembly hall, as we mutually acknowledged the gravity of what had just happened.
This whole thing has been unexpectedly hard for me, and, I think, for many others on my side of the debate. While I remain firm in the convictions I brought with me to the assembly, listening to the debate has brought something very painful into my awareness.
Early on in the week, Barbara and I had a discussion about the cost of losing this debate -- for both sides. I maintained at the time that the cost was greater for our side than for theirs. That our loss would be a personal, human loss for all of the individuals affected and for those who love them, but that the other side would just be losing an abstract, theological argument. Get over it, already.
I held that opinion loosely until this morning's debate. As much as I've tried to listen openly to the opposition to this point, I've never experienced their very real pain until today, and it was overwhelming to me. These people do not just hold abstract theological positions. For them, following the Bible as they understand it is the core of their faith. It is personal. It is very real -- and emotionally charged. To take a major step away from the foundation of their faith -- to say that what they've always believed the Bible to be saying is wrong -- shakes their world almost beyond recognition. They are, by and large, good, loving, fatihful Lutherans who really do "love the sinner" even as they "hate the sin."
I heard their pain from the microphones today. The pastor who cried as he spoke of his struggle with this issue, as he welcomed LGBT people into his church with an open heart, but simply still can't escape his conviction that homosexuality is sin. He was crying, he said, because he was afraid that he would have to leave the church he loved because it has so thoroughly departed from what he considers accurate Biblical teaching. He was in very real, personal pain -- trying desperately to do the right thing as he felt called to do, but feeling instead that his church is turning its back on him.
Then there was the lay woman who shared that her sister had called her, hysterical, after the sexuality statement vote, declaring that she would just not be able to set foot in a Lutheran church again. The speaker also shared that her father had declared that he would not be able to kneel next to her at the communion rail again. She was crying, too, as she related the loss of her entire family because of these decisions.
While I clearly do not agree with these folks' positions on policy or on the interpretation of Scripture, I still felt their very real pain in my heart and in my gut. It hurt me. I wanted nothing more than to go to them, share Christ's peace with them, and encourage them to engage in healing with me, but I know that time is the only true healer, and that my overtures at this point would be inappropriately premature.
My prayer, then, is that some day we will be able to come together on the common ground of Jesus' grace, and agree to disagree on this, even as we stay in communion with one another. Graceful engagement does not end here at this assembly, I realized. We must remain in full engagement with these hurting people throughout a time of healing, no matter how long that takes.
I agree with retired Presiding Bishop Herbert Chilstrom, who said at Goodsoil's service of hope and healing last night that this is a bittersweet vistory. We need each other in the body of Christ, this church, and someone else's pain is our pain. Let us not, in our celebration, then, ever forget that, and let this prayer for reconciliation always be at the tops of our hearts and our minds.
Peace,
Laura B
Reflections at Day's End
(Note: These next posts are back-logged. Published in order of their writing, but late. For the silence of the last couple of days, I apologize, but the days were so full, I was so exhausted, and the computers were often not available.)
Four full days have passed. We're over the hump -- only three days left. It's been a terribly busy and exhausting time, yet has been as rewarding as any work I've ever done.
Sometimes, it has seemd like I'm doing little or nothing, strangely enough. Working as a host at Goodsoil Central is quiet. Looking for someone to engage in conversation in the halls can be very slow. Finding -- yet again -- that my table partners at meals are already on board, leaves me feeling a little useless. And yet, I know that none of this is a waste of time. Just by being here, we make a huge difference. I have heard it called a "ministry of presence." We are prayerfully engaged -- even if we haven't convinved anyone to change their mind or their vote.
It's rather like occupying that building at 2515 Waugh and having a few visitors on Sundays, and then not having them come back. Is it a waste of time? Not at all. We don't know what that visitor experienced in his or her time at Grace. Perhaps "all" we did was to plant a seed of God's love and grace, which will flower at some other time and in some other place. We may never know the outcome when we do the work we've been called and chosen to do, bu that's okay. It's in God's hands and on God's time.
As it is at home, so is it here. I may not get the immediate response I'd like when I have a conversation with someone, but that doesn't mean I haven't made a difference.
The one real conversation I've had with someone I didn't know was a half-hour spent with a man who, as it turned out, was just another visitor. I don't know why he is here -- he didn't say -- but he had a lot of good, honest questions about policy change. I didn't get a chance to tell one of my prepared stories because he was so curious, but I realized in retrospect that I had told a story after all. I had told him the story of my conviction. He thanked me when we were done, said I'd given him a lot to think about, and added that now he thought he understood the importance of full inclusion.
I also realized, in retrospect, that I had given him the opportunity to tell several parts of his own story -- one part of whcih was really quite heart-wrenching, about his gay brother-in-law, a Pentecostal minister, who lived a secret life and who ended up being killed with his male lover in what sounded like it may have been a hate crime. My new friend, from a small town in Iowa, confessed that he had held mixed feelings about his wife's brother's secret, but that I had helped to open a window, at least, to an understanding of the religious intolerance which had led indirectly to the tragic ending of the story. I have no doubt, now, that the Holy Spirit led me to be in the same place as that man that evening, and I thank God that he received the touch of God's grace through our time together.
No, this trip has in no way been a waste for me, or for any of us. We may never know how our prayerful presence has shown God's grace to others, but that's okay. We're here. And most importantly, God is here.
Peace,
Laura B
Four full days have passed. We're over the hump -- only three days left. It's been a terribly busy and exhausting time, yet has been as rewarding as any work I've ever done.
Sometimes, it has seemd like I'm doing little or nothing, strangely enough. Working as a host at Goodsoil Central is quiet. Looking for someone to engage in conversation in the halls can be very slow. Finding -- yet again -- that my table partners at meals are already on board, leaves me feeling a little useless. And yet, I know that none of this is a waste of time. Just by being here, we make a huge difference. I have heard it called a "ministry of presence." We are prayerfully engaged -- even if we haven't convinved anyone to change their mind or their vote.
It's rather like occupying that building at 2515 Waugh and having a few visitors on Sundays, and then not having them come back. Is it a waste of time? Not at all. We don't know what that visitor experienced in his or her time at Grace. Perhaps "all" we did was to plant a seed of God's love and grace, which will flower at some other time and in some other place. We may never know the outcome when we do the work we've been called and chosen to do, bu that's okay. It's in God's hands and on God's time.
As it is at home, so is it here. I may not get the immediate response I'd like when I have a conversation with someone, but that doesn't mean I haven't made a difference.
The one real conversation I've had with someone I didn't know was a half-hour spent with a man who, as it turned out, was just another visitor. I don't know why he is here -- he didn't say -- but he had a lot of good, honest questions about policy change. I didn't get a chance to tell one of my prepared stories because he was so curious, but I realized in retrospect that I had told a story after all. I had told him the story of my conviction. He thanked me when we were done, said I'd given him a lot to think about, and added that now he thought he understood the importance of full inclusion.
I also realized, in retrospect, that I had given him the opportunity to tell several parts of his own story -- one part of whcih was really quite heart-wrenching, about his gay brother-in-law, a Pentecostal minister, who lived a secret life and who ended up being killed with his male lover in what sounded like it may have been a hate crime. My new friend, from a small town in Iowa, confessed that he had held mixed feelings about his wife's brother's secret, but that I had helped to open a window, at least, to an understanding of the religious intolerance which had led indirectly to the tragic ending of the story. I have no doubt, now, that the Holy Spirit led me to be in the same place as that man that evening, and I thank God that he received the touch of God's grace through our time together.
No, this trip has in no way been a waste for me, or for any of us. We may never know how our prayerful presence has shown God's grace to others, but that's okay. We're here. And most importantly, God is here.
Peace,
Laura B
So if you haven't heard already we have passed the reccommendations allowing the rostering of openly gay clergy in monogamous life long realtionships(guess how many times I heard that phrase during the debate) and the blessing of same sex partnerships. Some opponents have threatened scism and to leave the church. Others have said they will dissapointedly try and remain.
The totality of the events have left me both upset, angry, and full of joy. Now no longer do Gay Lesbian and Bisexual people have to face the exclusion of the church. Instead we face many who find the inclusion of certain people in the church so offensive that they would withdraw themselves from the church as a whole. The hurtful words of opponents and the child-like attitude with which they have carried their arguments have created a portion of me that wants to say "Go ahead!" But that is not what Jesus calls me or any of us to do. For he told us to turn the other cheek and love our enemy as we love ourselves. I instead realize that those who would oppose my inclusion in the church are growing in their spiritual life and are far from perfect just as I am. It is easy to close oneself off from those that have caused pain, but part of Jesus' grace is that he heals all wounds for those who ask. So let us ask that Jesus heal the wounds in this church and in those who have found pain in the past week so that one day maybe opponents of the changes that we have made may join hand in hand with us and celebrate God's message to ALL of his children.
Chris Busby
The totality of the events have left me both upset, angry, and full of joy. Now no longer do Gay Lesbian and Bisexual people have to face the exclusion of the church. Instead we face many who find the inclusion of certain people in the church so offensive that they would withdraw themselves from the church as a whole. The hurtful words of opponents and the child-like attitude with which they have carried their arguments have created a portion of me that wants to say "Go ahead!" But that is not what Jesus calls me or any of us to do. For he told us to turn the other cheek and love our enemy as we love ourselves. I instead realize that those who would oppose my inclusion in the church are growing in their spiritual life and are far from perfect just as I am. It is easy to close oneself off from those that have caused pain, but part of Jesus' grace is that he heals all wounds for those who ask. So let us ask that Jesus heal the wounds in this church and in those who have found pain in the past week so that one day maybe opponents of the changes that we have made may join hand in hand with us and celebrate God's message to ALL of his children.
Chris Busby
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Grace-Filled Worship
The Goodsoil worship service last night was, as expected, a tremendously inspiring experience. Central Lutheran Church, right across from the convention center, had been slightly damaged by the tornado that touched down at midday (more on that in a minute), but was still available for our service.
The 90 year old, magnificent Neo-Gothic building seats well over 2000 people, and it was almost full. Two thousand enthusiastic, ebulient Lutherans, including (by my rough estimate) close to 75 vested clergy, including our own Pastor Lura and retired ELCA Bishop Herbert Chilstrom, sang the beautiful service with gusto and Spirit-filled reverence. It was an awesome privilege to be part of it. I often joke that I come to these meetings just for the Goodsoil worship. That's really only half-joking.
The preaching by Rev. Barbara Lundblad was spine-tingling. (I'm running out of superlative adjectives.) She is a member of the LGBT community, and is a favorite preacher for LC/NA and Goodsoil worship, for good reason. A professor of preaching at Union Theological Seminary, she knows how to capture a listening congregation and thow to keep them at rapt attention.
She preached on the Gospel story of Jesus calming the storm (Mark 4:35-41), and drew fabulous parallels between our experience as an inclusive community, what we are experiencing here in Minneapolis, and that ancient story. I hope to get a transcript today of that sermon, so that I can share quoted bits with you, but I will do my best to wing it.
The first thing that really struck me was her reminder that Jesus and the disciples were in the boat on the Sea of Galillee in order to go to the other side. That was alien, foreign territory. A people who were not recognized by the people of Israel to be worthy of inclusion or even consideration. It was a potent reminder that Jesus informed his entire ministry with inclusivity and full acceptance.
Pastor Lundblad also noted that the storm of change is frightening, but Jesus is present with us, calming the storm and reminding us to have faith. She also, quoting from the second reading (1 Corinthians 12:12-27), reminded us that we are all one bady, and that all parts are necessary. If one member suffers, all suffer together with it. My take on part of the sermon -- the one based on the passage of Jesus to "the other side" -- indicates that this story is not just a metaphor for the outsider, but that Jesus reaches out to all sides.
As promised, we are bringing home some marvelous worship resources. In particular, there was an incredible affirmation of faith ( a creed -- like the Apostles' or Nicene Creeds that we use), and a way of doing prayer that was so beautifully overwhelming that I could do nothing but sit and listen, with tears in my eyes.
This worship is something that should be shared -- if only I could do it justice in mere words. I just wish that all of you could have been there to share it with us.
And now for the tornado story. I was sitting in my hotel room when I heard what sounded to me to be a VERY large truck rumbling by -- and then I remembered that I was on the 8th floor. I looked out the window and saw, to my amazement, a tornado tear down the street and destroy the outside structures that Central Lutheran had set up for assembly hospitality. Trash was flying everywhere, trees were bent low, and street barriers were toppled. I found out later that some of the chairs from the outdoor cafe on the church plaza were found on the roof of the convention center next door. We were also later told that the tornado had caused an auto accident on the street behind Central, that semi-trailers parked in the loading docks of the convention center were moved about, and that the central steeple of the church had been damaged. It was a very scary, but awe-inspiring experience.
There was talk in the assembly that our opponents, specifically an organization called Lutheran CORE, were saying that the storm was a sign of God's displeasure with what was going on in the business session (i.e. discussion of the sexuality statement), but one of the Goodsoil leaders later pointed out that it was right after the affirmative vote was taken that the sun came out. So there.
At any rate, it was an eventful, momentous day for the entire assembly, no matter which side of "the aisle" you were sitting on. It will remain to be seen if the ELCA will be able to prevent a fracture of the denomination, but I personally have a lot of faith that if anyone can lead us through the difficult period we are facing, it is Bishop Hanson and his team. They are truly and fundamentally committed to the health and unity of this church, and we would all do well to follow his generous and competent lead.
I'll post the events of today so far a little later in the day. For now, keep the prayers coming. They're working!
Peace,
Laura B
Hi, this is Barbara. Working from the computer room at the convention center.
Just got out of the morning plenary session, and the mood today was very different, after the vote passing the social statement last night.
The thing that stood out, to me, was that many of the "opponents", those who spoke strongly against the social statement and are still speaking against the ministry policies recommendation, were showing signs of emotional strain. Most of them were emotional. Several were strident. A few seemed shaky to me.
A friend pointed out that some of the traditionalists, especially the older folks, are having their world turned upside down and it leaves them feeling insecure and frightened. He said that, given our generation and social and cultural status, we can't really identify with where those folks are coming from. And the fact of the matter is that, given their generation and social and cultural experience, they have no concept of where we are coming from either. There is this huge gulf in understanding and frame of reference between the two groups.
My friend pointed out that there is common ground between these groups. That common ground is faith in Jesus.
Yesterday during the debate, before the vote on the social statement, a tornado hit Central Lutheran Church and the convention center. It did some damage to the steeple of the church and the convention center roof, but nobody was hurt. Several tables that were set up on the church grounds for a sidewalk cafe and pub were blown all the way up onto the convention center roof, but no windows were broken, and the people in the church and behind the large glass windows of the convention center were unhurt.
In the Goodsoil service at Central Lutheran last night, the reading, which was chosen months ago, was about Jesus and the disciples in the boat, in the wind storm, and the disciples' fear. The disciples woke Jesus and questioned whether he was going to help them. Jesus calmed the storm and asked the disciples why they still doubted and had such weak faith.
In the sermon, the pastor pointed out that we are in a storm at this assembly and in the ELCA, and everybody is a little shaken up,a little scared and unsure of what the future holds. We have to remember that Jesus is in the boat with us, and he has control of the storm.
Just got out of the morning plenary session, and the mood today was very different, after the vote passing the social statement last night.
The thing that stood out, to me, was that many of the "opponents", those who spoke strongly against the social statement and are still speaking against the ministry policies recommendation, were showing signs of emotional strain. Most of them were emotional. Several were strident. A few seemed shaky to me.
A friend pointed out that some of the traditionalists, especially the older folks, are having their world turned upside down and it leaves them feeling insecure and frightened. He said that, given our generation and social and cultural status, we can't really identify with where those folks are coming from. And the fact of the matter is that, given their generation and social and cultural experience, they have no concept of where we are coming from either. There is this huge gulf in understanding and frame of reference between the two groups.
My friend pointed out that there is common ground between these groups. That common ground is faith in Jesus.
Yesterday during the debate, before the vote on the social statement, a tornado hit Central Lutheran Church and the convention center. It did some damage to the steeple of the church and the convention center roof, but nobody was hurt. Several tables that were set up on the church grounds for a sidewalk cafe and pub were blown all the way up onto the convention center roof, but no windows were broken, and the people in the church and behind the large glass windows of the convention center were unhurt.
In the Goodsoil service at Central Lutheran last night, the reading, which was chosen months ago, was about Jesus and the disciples in the boat, in the wind storm, and the disciples' fear. The disciples woke Jesus and questioned whether he was going to help them. Jesus calmed the storm and asked the disciples why they still doubted and had such weak faith.
In the sermon, the pastor pointed out that we are in a storm at this assembly and in the ELCA, and everybody is a little shaken up,a little scared and unsure of what the future holds. We have to remember that Jesus is in the boat with us, and he has control of the storm.
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