Visibility

I have a love/hate relationship with Facebook.  I like to see the big events and even the small events that are going on in the lives of friends and family that I do not necessarily talk to every day.  I enjoy the shared pictures and humorous posts mixed in.  And then there's the other side, where hurtful comments, misinformation, or all-around ignorant memes are spread just as rapidly.  Politics and current events flood your feed as people react in real-time to our ever-changing world.  Amazing how many of your friends/family members are secretly lawyers when a controversial court decision comes out, or animal psychologists when a gorilla is in a cage with a child, etc.  I want to see what people are thinking, but there is a point where I hit my limit and log off for the next while.  

When something big happens, there's a hashtag, a commonly shared status, or even a special filter for your profile picture.  I have mixed feelings about these.  

At least I have a quick reason for the profile picture filters.  I have not taken advantage of these because there's that awkward question of when is it appropriate to take it off.  Either that or I would simply forget to take it off and still be rainbow or France striped three years later.  But for the others, when do I need to say something and when do I need to let it be?  People who know me will know that I'm an advocate for LGBTQ rights, feminism, and all-around equality, so do I need to put something out there specifically each time something wonderful or terrible happens?  

Sometimes, I'll proudly join the chorus, putting my own words in.  Sometimes, I feel like what I want to say has been said and said well by another person, in which case I'm content to share the post or like it.  Sometimes, I don't feel that I have anything of value to add to the conversation, due to a flooding of responses, partially encroaching on that hipster mentality component--I refuse to comment on something just because everyone else is.  

And yet, if I don't say something, am I then complicit in it?  This goes back to the idea that the only thing needed for evil to succeed is for good to do nothing.  But where I get hung up is this is actually just a response on Facebook and not a vote or a protest.  We could argue that it's a sort of loose protest, but the sample that I see will always be skewed since the population of my particular friends is not a true random selection.  

Does my response on Facebook or lack of response on Facebook actually do anything about the problem?  

Sometimes, yes.  Hearing a perspective from someone you trust can help change your own, leading others to hopefully see the problems we face in our society with better clarity.  This can help mitigate some of of the ignorance surrounding the situation and thereby work toward fixing it one person at a time.  

Other times, definitely no.  I have seen people talk a big game on Facebook, but what are you actually doing to solve the problem?  Liking a status has saved no one.  Sharing a meme has not stopped all of the killings in the world.  There is a point where we need to remember that talking about it is not the same as doing something about it.  Yes, we need to be vocal about what we believe, but the loudest statements don't usually require words.  How are we acting on these things we post?  

Or is it just a show?  Are we just putting on a visage of righteousness for our Facebook friends?  I don't want to be this person, someone that talks about it and then doesn't do anything about it.  Yes, we should be speaking from our outrage if we feel it.  Additionally, persons need to grieve in what way works best for them.  But we also need to offer ideas and organize on them.  

If the situation is important enough to you that you are angry that someone isn't drawing attention to it on their personal Facebook, maybe you should be doing something more about it.  If you have pressed "Post" and still feel upset, maybe it's time to write your congressman and representatives.  Get on city council, start a petition, create an event to raise awareness, something.  We need to move past words and address the problems.  

Taking Risks

Please refrain from bad puns about stealing a pile of board games when you look at that title.  Or rather, feel free to make them but keep them elsewhere.

A while back when I was going through student teaching, there were a few spirit days during Homecoming Week.  For 80's day, I elected to wear a homemade Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle costume, Donatello to be specific.  

Turtle Power!

Driving there was a wee bit difficult because I had elected to drive with the backpack on under the rather large brown shirt (spray painted and drawn on).  I don't remember why I decided that was easier, but it took me at least four minutes to fix the seat so I could reach the peddles and steering wheel in a way that made sense.  The whole way to school that day, I was debating about turning around and changing.  Once I was far enough away from home, I switched instead to reminding myself that this was probably a terrible idea.  I wondered again and again if this was just too much, if my cooperating teacher was going to be upset with me, if this would affect my professional chances, etc.  This was your first spirit day as a teacher, and you have gone overboard, I told myself.  

Taking a deep breath, I put on a smile and nodded to people as I walked into the building.  The kids loved it.  

It was a risk.  It was definitely a risk.  But it paid off for me.  

I've felt that same anxiety giving a Christmas present or two, knowing that it was a bit of a gamble.  I've done it with jokes.  I've done it with surprises, once running a surprise intentionally so I could check to see if it was okay.  

Here's what I've found--the best Christmas gifts I've ever given had me churning inside.  The funniest jokes were all the better as that anxiety went with them.  The best surprises involved that bit of risk.  

That's not to say all Christmas presents I felt unsure about were amazing.  Some I thought were good ideas were probably re-gifted that same year.  It's okay.  I had to try.  

As another example, Andy sang at the Bloomington Edge game a little while back (listen to it here on the June 6th entry), and I swear we both thought he was actively dying.  He didn't want to eat anything, all kinds of aches and pains, scratchy throat, etc.  But once he got out there to do his thing, let his voice fill that space, a simultaneous peace and excitement took its place.  Yep, Andy's a performer.  

There are times when I sit down to write another piece of the blog, where I hover over the orange Publish button and just stare at it for a few seconds before going back to scan over everything again.  

I post a lot of intimate things on this blog.  I worry that I might inadvertently single someone out.  I post some things that I'm really thinking and open myself up for that scrutiny.  I worry that when I feel something is an epiphany or at least a strong point that someone is rolling their eyes and going "well, duh," to their screen.  That is a risk in putting that piece of myself out there, that it could then be rejected.  

But that was part of the whole purpose of writing a blog.  I don't want to have a fake presence up on Facebook, where I refrain from saying one thing or another because someone might see it and start an argument when I wasn't looking for discussion.  In the end, I'm not really fishing for sympathy, and I value myself more than the number of likes I can receive on something.  The views counter on my blog makes me feel good, but the distinction is that my self-esteem is not tied to them, such is the trap that many people seem to fall into.  

Each piece of myself I put out there is a risk, but I've found that the pieces I've been most afraid to publish have been the most worthwhile.  I've written about experiences with my own mental health, when to possibly give up on friendships, personal philosophies, political opinions, and church politics, none of which are light topics.  Truth be told I was most worried about the church politics pieces (and subsequently they are probably the most polished ones I have out here) because I had the capacity to offend the most people, talking about a delicate subject.  That it has been of such worth to others has affirmed to me that it was a situation that needed to be addressed and shared, regardless now of whether I see any personal fallout from that situation.  I've written other things that have resonated with people, and it took that initial courage to put it out there in the first place.  

Sometimes, fear is a very real thing that we need to pay attention to, fear being something that can keep us safe.  Sometimes, though, that fear can be an indicator that you're on the right path, like seeing more bad guys in a video game means you're going in the right direction.  

How can we tell these fears apart?  What kinds of fears are legitimately about your safety and what fears are those points in your life where you need to have courage against one demon or another?  

At least in this space, I want to find out by stepping forward.  That means I still will pull Andy over to proofread what I'm posting (particularly if it includes him), but I've never tossed out a subject I felt needed to express.  

I've wanted to publish a book for a long time.  Clearly I can carve out writing time, so what's really stopping me?  Fear, most definitely.  I have ideas, specifically two viable ones, but there is something in that process where I let the fear win.  Through this blog, I've continued to hit that publish button anyway.  It's time to take that leap and start really working on something.

An Anniversary of Sorts

While Andy and I celebrated our fourth wedding anniversary this year, we pulled out something that he had given me for our second anniversary:  the Peterson Family Scroll.  He made it himself, a place for us to document significant moments in our marriage and lives together on cloth between two wooden rods.  Some of the dates were easy--our birthdays, our wedding date, our engagement day--but some of them were a bit harder to pinpoint immediately, such as what days we officially started working at Skyward and then, well, when my surgeries happened for the first year of our marriage.  As we watched our wedding video, it hit me once again how we had absolutely no idea how hard the next year was going to be.

This scroll was a wonderfully thoughtful gift from Andy for many reasons, but the most significant reason for me was that it was evidence that he thought that we had a long future ahead of us, where all of that blank space would be filled with adventures and experiences.  At that particular moment in time, I had been grateful enough just to have survived to our second year.  I remember thinking that perhaps we could hopefully soon get past surviving and get to really living, still uncertain of what that timeline would actually be.  I ended up writing on the scroll "06/12" for the failed surgery and subsequent clean-up surgery as a combined entry.  

It made me a little uneasy to not pull the date up immediately--that was a pretty big life-event to misplace.  I could shrug it off to some extent at least because the whole timeline of that year blurred together in a mass of depression, fear, pain, and all else; who wouldn't want to forget at least some of it?  

My family had the layout etched in more cleanly than I did.  June 9th and June 10th, if I'm on the correct dates now.  We all went in to my first surgery expecting a quick turn around, a few days in the hospital and then on with the rest of our lives.  We maintained that optimism for the first few hours upon waking up.  

And then my pain slid quickly out of control.  Andy will tell you that I shake my head at the pain scale, that it's subjective in a lot of ways and people who have no pain tolerance will tell you with a straight face and calmly that they're at a level ten.  I will refer you to a better pain scale here than the one you'll normally see in doctor's office.  Recovering from surgery, I was sporting a solid five or six or sometimes seven, finding those momentary sharp pains when I moved further than the strictures would allow (and as we figured out that a particular pain medication just didn't work for me).  Then, as the tissue around the new internal stitches disintegrated, we ramped up to a steady ten, easily the worse pain I've ever felt in my life.  At that time, I certainly did not care what day it was.  

Here's what I do remember.  

• A feeling of relief when they told me we were going back to surgery, immediately followed by a deep weight.  I wouldn't call it fear exactly, because at that point being unconscious was where I wanted to be and this was the only way forward from here.  Fear was in that mindset, sure, but this is just what needed to be done at this point.  I could settle into a state of action.
• My surgeon going from cocky to contrite very quickly--the odds of these complications were slim, but still real.  I still don't blame him, though I wonder if he wishes he had played it safer and gone with the ostomy from the start.  
• Waking up three separate times from the impossibly heavy fatigue one feels when coming out of anesthesia and having someone inform me that I had an ostomy now.  Each time, I said something to the effect of "okay."  Two of those times, they checked to make sure that I understood what that really meant, and I confirmed in the same level tone.  The third time, I replied that I had already been informed and they seemed to leave it at that.  
• Hurting more waking up from this surgery than the first, about twenty-four hours before.  It was a little better than before going in, but as much infection as there was all through my abdominal cavity, there was no real rest.  

The whole subsequent month was a blurry mess.  The infection seemed better, the infection seemed worse, my kidneys were shutting down from all of the antibiotics pumped through my body, we needed more drains which had to be put in while I was conscious, we went back to ICU, we left ICU, I learned how to change my ostomy bag, we addressed how to move around again, and I watched a lot of Law & Order in the wee hours of the morning.  

For the most part, though, I took it with a relatively level acceptance at the time.  Somewhere, I made the decision that my overall strategy was to get through today and process it all later.  

To mark this anniversary of surviving through the most difficult two years of my life (because there were two more surgeries and a lot more recovery to be had), Andy gave me a symbol to track how far we had come and how much time we have left for new adventures.  Here now, two years from then and four years after the event itself, I'm still working through all of those emotions that I had put aside, when it was time to act instead of feel.  Hell, there are still physical ramifications that I'm working through.  

I feel like I have said the exact same thing before many, many times, that I still feel some kind of emotionally screwed up with everything that's happened, and yet I need to say it again and again still because I do not feel relief yet in saying it.  There is some relief, sure, but the words I have clearly not found yet still press against my throat, trying to force their way out without form, if need be.  I keep saying what I can in the hopes that this time I will find what it is I really need to say and finally let it out.  To be fair, there were a few times there where I actually could have died; that's still a hard thing to digest.  I'm tired of carrying it, yet I cannot figure out how to let it go.  I suspect that there will be some of it that to linger permanently, but I have yet to know how much.  I don't want to keep more than I have to, so I keep trying to find how I'm supposed to release it.    

This was a long-term traumatic experience, followed understandably by some very real depression.  I have been asked more than once if I was cured or if "that Crohn's thing" was "still a thing."  Somewhere I need emphasize that this is a permanent situation, that remission is possible but never indefinite.  I can feel people wanting to change the subject when I bring it up--some people have more stomach for the gore than they do the emotional, oddly enough, though I would agree the grieving components are easier for the average person to identify with, perhaps the answer unto itself.  And I still need that support sometimes.  It's still a thing.  I'm not sure how to ask for it without depressing my audience, and I do not usually cede that information without being directly prompted.  And most unfortunately, many times I don't even realize until later that I needed that support in that moment, until it catches up with me later when I'm finally alone where I can have a good cry or ask Andy just to hold on to me for a little while, without either of us saying a word.  

And I've said this all, too, that there are many cases besides myself where people are in the middle of an invisible battle.  Can we ask each other how we are and be earnestly interested in the answer?  Can we stop ourselves from internally rolling our eyes when someone struggling with any condition that they haven't just "gotten over it yet"?  I don't mean to infer that we should exhaust ourselves to tend to everyone's every little concern, but that we should act with compassion to all persons and be open when that special attention is required.  

I celebrate how far I have come and those who have helped me through those especially difficult moments.  I celebrate what adventures lay before me.  I still walk through this world a day at a time, trying to make what sense of it I can.

Andy's Favorite Childhood Movie

Andy and I were feeling pretty worn out one day and opted to put in one of his favorite, feel-good movies from his childhood.  Disney's Robin Hood looks great on Blu-Ray.  

Owned by Disney. used without permission

About fifteen minutes in, Andy made an observation--this particular movie was very formative to his thinking growing up.  The movie has still held up in a few ways, one of those things that resonates with you in such a way that you may not understand it at first, unless you take the time to sit down and dissect it.  I've outlined a few of these dissected pieces below.

• Social Justice:  The driving motion of the story comes back to the central point that it is not a good thing for some to have so much and others to have so little.  Prince John is arbitrarily taking more money for the sake of basking in it, with no indication as to what might then be done with those taxes to better communal services, before anyone gets caught in the trap of oversimplifying the lesson to "taxes are bad."  Greed is the real enemy that Robin Hood is fighting against, greed that states one person's wants are more important than the needs of others.  In today's world, we see a reflection of this situation in the kind of capitalism that does not look after its people, where profits are more important than the people that work for them, ultimately hurting the society around it.  Is it any surprise, then, that Andy supports the idea of a living wage?  Furthermore, the exploitation of other persons for the sake of one's own gain is a moral issue.  And there are many, many other examples of things that need to be corrected in our society that once you begin to see them you can never be blind to them again.  
• Equality:  This story is set under a monarchy, working in a simplified feudal system, I assume.  Yet, there is still an imbalance even in that setup, where we recognize that one end of the bargain is not being held up appropriately.  One could even argue that justice/fairness is a sense not counted in the five senses.  Even monkeys can tell when something isn't fair (and for those of you who don't want to hear some of the background and/or just want to see an indignant monkey, here's the short version).  This ties into the social justice component, in that one must first recognize there is a problem before we can do something about it.  Recognizing injustice requires a certain amount of empathy with the other party, and I can certainly tell you that Andy has a lot of empathy, if you have not encountered that yourself.  That empathy is the foundation for "fairness."  Though he may not know how to reconcile the situation, it weighs on him.
• Generosity:  Andy very much likes to give.  We both enjoy hosting and taking our turn to treat when we can.  In fact, once your Christmas present is either bought or arrives in the mail, he's so excited to give it to you that usually it ends up coming to you much earlier than Christmas, that very day, if possible.  I usually decline and wait a little longer, sometimes just to make him twitch.  Robin Hood perhaps had all the reason in the world to just take care of himself, make himself more marriageable for a noble lady, but I imagine that even as his hideout in Sherwood Forrest was modest, possibly for hiding ease but also because he had continued to give away what conveniences he could have had.  
• Fight for what's right, even if it's not easy:  I don't think we could necessarily call his actions civil disobedience, but he's clearly framed to have the moral high ground, particularly against Prince John's prime motivations of greed and power.  Ultimately, it requires the return of King Richard to set everything to rights (because Prince John would then need taxes to repair the castle and take back the money again, etc.).  Robin was among the people and Robin was part of the people.  He knew what the real problems were and fought against the symptoms.  Furthermore, he kept courage in the hearts of his people, recognizing that maintaining that hope was more important than even himself, even taking time to assume the risk of arriving at Skippy's birthday.  He does it all because it is something worth doing, as hopeless as it sometimes seems, and stands out as a strong leader.  Andy is looking for where he can be a kind of figure to work for good.  That inspiration comes from many places, including this childhood memory.
• Take Time out for Things that are Important:  So, confession here first--at the love song after the action-packed tournament sequence, I usually wanted to fast-forward when I watched it as a child.  Andy, though, he apparently loved the mushy love song, where the two foxes walked around the forest and made eyes at each other the whole time.  Even in the midst of all else, Robin Hood stops his crusade, if only for the evening, to celebrate his love.  His quest for justice and equality to return to Nottingham does not consume him to the point where he forgets who he really is.  Furthermore, he is also able to maintain his friendships, striking a balance between all things.  I think this is actually one of Robin Hood's most admirable qualities.  For Andy, he will absolutely drop what he's doing when it's something important and tends to be pretty good at pulling me back in when I've surrounded myself in the details.  It's a delicate balance, no matter who you are.  

Owned by Disney, used without permission

All of these different things, a strong sense of justice, equality, generosity, love, these are all things dear to Andy's heart, things that he considers in his decisions, though I've seen him falling into the trap more than once of caring too much (not that I'm any better at avoiding it myself).  I would certainly make the argument that there were many factors in his development that helped him to lean toward these values, but there was certainly a reason that this movie resonated with him so strongly.  What we expose our children to also matters, but that's a discussion for a different day.  

Interlude # ...12?

Given both the audience that I have had on the previous two posts and the severity of the subject matter, I've had a very hard time trying to decide what I should follow it up with.  As such, I have started four or five posts and have been working on them simultaneously, hoping that whatever piece should follow will follow.  

And then I told myself to calm the hell down.  

Clearly what I had written resonated with a lot of people, in our church and otherwise.  Many people were not aware of the problems in the church or certainly the depth of the problems.  I wanted to help others find words.  And now I have ultimately put a lot of pressure on myself, not writing because I wanted to make my next post another gesture and ultimately not marking anything as good enough and then getting so busy in various life requirements that I wasn't writing at all.  As such, I have come to two conclusions.  

1.  Not producing something is certainly not the answer.  I've given myself the freedom before to have small posts, ones that didn't need to have some great overarching purpose, and I need to reclaim that for myself.  
2.  I am working toward what I need to be doing on the individual level for our church, and I will continue to suggest very strongly that everyone else be doing their own part for the betterment of our community.  I cannot claim responsibility for where we all go from here.

And there we are.  I find that I will likely write more about our church's struggles as they are dear to my heart and particularly because I still feel that not talking about our problems was what allowed them to continue.  But I do not have to put that pressure on myself that everything I write be an epic.  Instead, I acknowledge again that I am free to write here whatever I want to or need to, simultaneously glad to share it with you all.

A Few Notes on the Last Post

Understandably, my last post has made the rounds.  In fact, I have had more response on that post about eight times over than anything else I have posted.  Not only has it moved through members of First UMC, but many other voices have added in that they have seen this problem at their own church, too, specifically where a small group tries to assert personal preference as doctrine.  Please continue to share this with members of our church and anyone else.

I do want to make a couple of additional notes, regarding the last post.  If you have not read it yet, I might suggest starting there.

Firstly, to anyone attending First UMC that did not know the severity of this issue or that there was a problem at all, I urge you not to feel too guilty about it.  Again, this whole situation (and all incidents thereof) was allowed to fester because this is both a hard topic to talk about and a taboo topic, meaning that we all feel that it shouldn't be talked about.  However, in order to fix this problem, we must first be aware of it--that was a large part of the intention, identifying the problem and the modality of that problem.  

Secondly, if I wanted to instigate a witch hunt, I would have named some names.  There are many, many angry people in the church right now.  It's not unchristian to be angry; it's a natural response.  There are things that should make us angry in this world:  hunger, poverty, and injustice to name a few.  What we do with that anger, however, how we choose to use that will be a defining moment for our church.  We could easily use it to tear ourselves apart--either through infighting or sitting back and uselessly dolling out the blame from a distance.  Or we could take culpability for ourselves and work to make change.  Take this as an opportunity to become more involved in your church by volunteering--VBS could always use volunteers, greeters and communion servers are needed, the casserole ministry can use casseroles, and many, many other opportunities.  You can become as involved as you want to be every week, once in a while, etc.  Other than volunteering, you can join a committee and contribute to some of the ruling decisions at the church.  (For the record, I am following my own advice and have recently joined a committee.)  Regardless of how you choose to be involved, you are supporting the church and the work that it does, contributing to the health of our community.  In our membership ceremony, we promise to support the church through our prayers, our presence, our gifts, and our service:  what does this mean to you and where can you improve personally?

In other words, yes, get angry!  But then steer that anger into something positive instead of something destructive, and if you're not sure how or where, ask.  Again, deciding who deserves how much blame isn't productive.  Instead, choose how you personally are going to make changes, not what someone else should do.  You will certainly find much more peace in the situation.

So here's where we can combine these two thoughts together.  We need to talk about the problem and in doing so we need to change the conversation to this new direction.  I don't suggest confronting everyone in the church, but if the conversation happens organically, don't be afraid to have it.  There's a lot to unpack (ignoring temporarily our own natural curiosity about the details) and we are going to go through a grieving process, loss of the image we used to have of the church, if nothing else.  We can support each other through this.  The trickiest part will be drawing the line between discussion and gossip and diverting the conversation away from the gossip side when necessary.  What I'm proposing is not to stop the conversation if it needs to happen, but to change how it ends.  Instead of <<"Well, this sucks."  "Yeah, it does.">> turn it instead to <<"So, how're we going to fix it?">>.  This is a subtle change, but it colors the experience differently.  

And the talking will get easier.  With any luck, so will the ideas for possible solutions.  I won't lie, though, in that things are likely to get messier before they get better.  I happen to think that this is worth fighting for.  

Open Letter to Our Church

I've been debating for a while on how to word this and if I should even then share it and how far to disseminate it.  I've been taught for a long time not air this kind of dirty laundry.  As for as controversial topics go, religion and politics are at the top, and, well, I want to talk about church politics.  

Just recently, I had been talking with a friend about church as a general concept.  I agreed with the idea that a building isn't essential to worship, but argued that it helped to have support and people to hold you accountable, help you grow.  In the end, we could both agree that the teachings in Christianity, taken purely, were solid.  The problem happens when a group of people start taking it in their own directions.  I've known many, many individuals hurt by groups claiming to speak for the church where it drove them away and left a bitter taste in their mouths.  

I'm another.  

Perhaps I have not been wronged to the depth of others, but I certainly feel betrayed and hurt by a small group claiming to be acting as the church, Christians who are supposed to be "good people."  I am so heart-sore and frustrated.  I have seriously considered leaving and truly am reconsidering things I had once believed about my faith.

For those unaware, the decision has been made that our current minister at First United Methodist Church in Normal, IL, Dr. Don Jackson, will be moved.  That, in and of itself, is not unprecedented in the Methodist Church--we move pastors all the time to bring in fresh voices and otherwise ensure that it would never become "Pastor John Doe's Church" instead of God's Church.  The timing and politics of this move, however, is where things got nasty.  

I'll say this bluntly:  there are people patting themselves on the back for seeing Don removed.  And it was done rather underhandedly.  

As an example, there was a petition sent up to the bishop that had twenty-some-odd signatures on it.  I was never told about this petition when it was being signed, as were many others conveniently skipped.  Only a select group was involved.  This petition was not an accurate representation of the opinions of the members of First United Methodist Church in Normal.  In fact, I would go as far as to say that the majority of the church is either disappointed or upset that Don is being moved.  

Now as sad as I am about Don moving, I want to be very clear that I while I will miss Don and Cynthia very much, I am much more upset with the actions of certain members of the church.  Soon, we will have a new set of ministers for our church, but the underlying problems are still there; poison is already in our church body.   

Some of this problem, in this particular case is racism and bigotry, I'm sad to say.  There have been a group saying they did not want Don visiting them in their homes or in the hospital because they didn't want a black man there.  Some have been less blatant about personal prejudices.  God calls us to be inclusive of all peoples, regardless of race, gender, class, or whatever other barrier we might wish to construct, even in our own membership ceremony (page 34 of the UMH, specifically mentioning race, if anyone needs to look).  It is very unchristian to be a bigot. 

This problem is then combined at least in part with another huge problem:  egoism, this idea that this is "my church" and worship and all other functions, then, will happen "my way."  

I grew up with church politics, my father serving as a pastor for this conference all my life--I've seen very clearly what it can do to the pastor's family, and I have seen it happen for the stupidest reasons.  Once, my father called himself "an old fart" in the children's sermon.  Whether you agree or disagree that this is something that should not be said in church, I hope that we can all agree that this is not something that should be sent straight to the District Superintendent.  They did not take the mature response and talk to him privately about their concerns.  In another instance, a parishioner tore down VBS decorations because she did not want them in "her sanctuary," even though there was a team set to take them down later.  These are rather innocent examples, but I can assure you there are worse ones.

It starts small, with a few persons complaining about how X doesn't belong in "my sanctuary."  The list starts branching out, until we could even call it micromanaging.  Thus starts the demands and ultimatums to make God's church look more like "my church."  This has included withholding tithes, threats, defamation of character and other lies, and many, many different attempts at coercion.  John Wesley's "In essentials unity, in non-essentials liberty, in all things charity" becomes, "No, really, my way is what we're going to do."  

Any time someone says "X isn't going to happen in MY church," they reveal that somewhere along the way they have definitely missed the point.  It is NOT "their church."  It's not "my church" either.  It always was and always should be GOD'S church.  

The church should not bow to any one person's preferences.  The church is not a building, is not made of these ceremonies, doesn't have a song-style preference, and all-around does not have these rules.  Over time, we have made this institution, but it is NOT the church.  Our mission statement has never been to have our sanctuary look just so or sing only out of one hymnal.  If these details become so important, then your religion is serving yourself and not what you came to worship.  "My church" puts the wrong person on the cross.  We will not be judged by how pleasant our service is but by what changes we have made in people's lives.

So to this particular group of people, either because of bigotry, egoism, or most likely some mix, the pastor becomes a lightning rod for all of that discontent.  Decisions like worship order, the new screen, and other changes are made by committees in the church that have weighed the options and benefits to make this choice.  Take that new screen, for example.  It allows us more modern media, to include new examples for sermons, to show how the youth work-trip went through their smiling and muddy faces, to make it easier for new persons to find music when they are unfamiliar with our hymnal system, to help visual learners read important points and better remember important parts, and a myriad of other things.  In the end, the screen is about inclusiveness.  But it covers the cross temporarily.  

Let's say, hypothetically, that someone still disagreed with this decision.  We have biblical guides for resolving conflict.  We have Methodist guides for the working of our church in the Book of Discipline.  Neither one will suggest gossip or going straight to the DS or the Bishop.   It goes first to the person responsible, which could be a committee or a single person, for a conversation, not a list of demands.  When something concerns us, do we ask questions?  Communication is a two way street, which means that the burden of initiating a conversation must sometimes come from us, too.  And I mean real, adult conversations.

That brings me to the next point, how could this happen?  Regardless of the motive, why this kind of problem persists and festers within our church is because we don't talk about it.  All of those same misgivings for why I feel I shouldn't be airing this in a public way, that social faux pax, that secrecy is what allowed this situation to gain traction.  For the majority of us, we might have felt something was happening but didn't know enough to voice these concerns or felt it perhaps wasn't our place.  Staff and committee members knew too much but couldn't mobilize that information.  For anyone who was completely unaware, you were surrounded by all of the things that make this church wonderful.

I can tell you how this happens.  It starts with small, snide comments.  "Don't you think that Don should be doing X?"  "Why would they choose that song?"  "Oh, no one ever shows up to the eleven o'clock anyway."  Sometimes these are innocent, but sometimes they instead reveal some deeper feelings.  Think again about that rule, that one does not talk about the problems in the church--if this person is making those kinds of comments frequently, they have reached a point where that grievance is strong enough in their minds to overcome that unwritten rule.  

One of two things can happen, then:  the person in question could be subconsciously planting seeds of discontent or they could find their people who think the same way.  

This negativity grows, then, instead of being addressed.  Some stopped attending but still tried to dictate how the show should run.  When I have heard these kinds of remarks, I've brushed them off or tried to explain them away.  I've been guilty of being too nice instead of sorting out the underlying problem.  The best response I've used a couple times now was to suggest we stop worrying and let God work.  I think I might need to continue that direction but counteract the negativity more directly--neutral is not going to cut it anymore.  I'm leaning most toward Socratic questions, to perhaps break down where this impression is coming from and why we should maybe not take it at face value.

In our model, negativity continues to grow.  It grows most in the places where these like-minded persons have now found each other and roll around these feelings--be it egoism, self-righteousness, or a number of other causes--until it reaches a boiling point.  I do not pretend to understand all of rationale behind why the persons involved in this matter have acted as they have, but I will insist that it was not handled maturely.  

And here's the sticking point--new people looking for a church are looking to go to God's church, no one that has been twisted into someone's "my church."  What kind of impression might these people have had, if they overheard any side comments?  And how many people have already turned away?

The rest of us aren't stupid.  This behavior is what will destroy this congregation.  Members and staff have left or are going to leave.  That's the irony of the situation:  in the drive to save "my church," so that it is preserved in just such a way, it will be destroyed.  It will die.  A being that does not grow dies.  Strangling new life in the church continues no legacies.  What  especially frustrates me is how we recently celebrated the 150 year heritage of a church created to meet the needs of the community, now watching as it serves itself into irrelevancy.  

By breaking this code of secrecy, I'm sure there is more than one person thinking that perhaps I am doing more harm than good.  However, messes tend to get messier as they are ultimately cleaned up, and this is a bone that needs to be re-broken before it can be set again properly.  We are already hurting and we need to start healing.  That is bigger than Don and bigger than me.  

But I still have so much hope.  There are so many good people in this church, people who embody what it means to be a good Christian, imperfect but constantly striving forward in a beautiful tension.  There is a special place in my heart for so many of you, especially the amazing youth of our church that are asking questions people four times their age have not found words for; youth of First United Methodist Church, I love you more than you know.  From the beginning of my time in this church, I have been inspired, I have been welcomed, I have been supported, I have been prayed through some of the hardest times in my life.  

I have been loved.  That is why it pains me to see the church this way.  

And yet I forgive you.  As angry and hurt as I am, I want to believe that there are some good intentions that were lost somewhere along the way.  I want us to be better.  

So now what?  Where do we go from here?  

I cannot pretend anymore that everything is okay. Nothing gets solved if we force ourselves to believe there's no problem.  This is where we must begin again.

We need to have frank conversations.  We need to speak out against that negativity--not in the sense that we cannot have negative feelings, but that we work through them instead of storing them away.  We need to reclaim our voice when others are not speaking accurately for us.  We need to be God's church above all else and relinquish our own designs.

To those that have already decided to leave, I understand--the toxicity is absolutely choking, and I have had the same thoughts myself.  To those on a fence, I implore you to be bold and stick it out a little bit longer.  For those of you who feel that your voice has not been heard or has been trampled upon, I urge you to speak.  Volunteer.  Become part of a committee and work for change on the inside.  Refuse to let this church die at the hands of those who insist on chipping it into the form of something it's not supposed to be.  Support our new pastors coming in to the church and be open to their leadership.  Reject the idea that nothing can be done to fix this.  Let God work in this church again and breathe into it new and vibrant life.  And choose to love, above all things.

Please pass this on to our fellow church members.