Jonathan Coppedge-Henley
Thoughts from the Pastor of New Stuff
Amendment One….Really? March 27, 2012
Okay, this Amendment One thing is boneheaded. Marriage has never been threatened by the prospect of gay people getting married. If a marriage is a good marriage, that has nothing to do with whoever else in the world is married to whoever else, now does it? The painful irony to Amendment One, which bans same-sex marriage, is that the people who are so eager to vote to ban same-sex marriage are, in many cases, the same people who are paranoid about the government restricting their rights. Yet, here they are supporting a governmental restriction on affection and commitment. The way I see it, if the government can tell you who you can’t marry, then the government can tell you that you can’t have a gun or you can’t worship at the church of your choice.
The truth is that I hate working for the State when I do weddings. I wasn’t ordained to be an officer of the State, rather, I’m ordained as an officer of the United Methodist Church. The State has no business telling the church what constitutes a marriage. “Marriage” is a religious term used to describe a religious ceremony in a religious community. As a pastor, as a Christian, I find that a legal bill determining what makes a marriage is no less offensive than the N.C. General Assembly telling me who can be a member of my church, who I can baptize, or to whom I can serve communion. In my case, the ban on same-sex marriage is an invasion of the role of churches to determine the life of our communities. Since when is it the job of the General Assembly to meddle in church theology? Conservative and liberal Christians alike, if you are paying attention, should be vehemently against this amendment because it is an attempt to determine how we practice our faith. Defining marriage is the responsibility of the Church, not the State or even the majority of citizens.
But that’s where much of my problem lies, personally: I think my denomination is wrong, too–dead wrong. The United Methodist Church bans same-sex marriages in our churches and by our clergy. So, even if Amendment One fails, it won’t make any difference in the polity of the United Methodist Church. But wouldn’t it be funny if Amendment One passed and the United Methodist Church voted to approve same-sex unions? Then we’d be like a subversive sect, living out our faithfulness to our beliefs even in the face of an oppressive government persecution–dare I dream!
Why does this matter to me? Because some of the most Christ-like people I’ve ever known are married to partners of the same sex. Some of the healthiest and most committed marriages I’ve ever seen are same-sex. Some of the most loving relationships I’ve ever seen are same-sex. Some of them have adopted foster children who come from some of the hardest, most difficult, most challenging situations. These people have given up so much of themselves to create families for children most people don’t have the guts to deal with. It’s one thing to love a child who comes from your own DNA, but it is entirely different to give your life to a child not of your blood. Why do these people do this? Because their faith in Jesus Christ formed them, shaped them, taught them, gave them compassion and strength to make family real. If you want to see family values at work, then look at some of these same-sex couples who have adopted kids. If we want to get “family” right, then we will look to both gay and straight couples for stellar examples.
You know, the problem for the church is that we really think Jesus is neat, but we often think that public approval is neater. Sigh. When Jesus had his disciples together for the last time, he gave them one commandment: Love one another. The Man had all of the wisdom of the universe at his disposal and he just tells them to love–one commandment: LOVE. No, that doesn’t mean “free-love,” but selfless, giving, redemptive, graceful love. I’m trying to understand this, myself. My denomination does not yet fully understand how the concept works, but when we do (because in Jesus, I believe all roads lead to love), there is a good chance it will be illegal in the eyes of the State government.
Balance, Baby January 27, 2012
I am fortunate to have friends who tell me the truth that I am too clouded to see. Sure, I have to pay one person to tell me the truth about me, but the others willingly sign up for the chore of telling me the truth. Lately, I have been wallowing. I don’t know if it’s January, if it’s the rain, if it’s grief deferred, restlessness, or what, but I’ve been wallowing. You know what that makes me? A wallower. And the problem is that I hardly recognized it for myself.
Now, to be clear, I think that when the malaise sets in, you have to claim it–I generally end up wallowing in Metallica or Sarah McLachlan or Audioslave–let the sadness or whatever have its day otherwise it eats you. If you don’t admit that you’re in the hole, then the blackness (you know, like Venom in Spiderman) gets the best of you because you aren’t paying it any attention. But the trick is balance. At some point we have to get out of the trap that we, ourselves, create. At some point, we have to grab our boot straps–maybe have someone show us the bootstraps–and get ourselves together. Like when Cher slaps Nicholas Cage in Moonstruck: “SNAP OUT OF IT!”
Pink Floyd: “And did you exchange / A walk on part in a war / For a lead role in a cage?”
Balance, baby. We deny and avoid and listen to the wrong voices that tell us we belong in the cage. When do we listen to the quieter, more sane voices that remind us that we getting bleak in our outlook. And it’s so funny how I heard myself talking like one of the critics on the Muppet Show–constantly grousing, reveling in my own cynical sense of humor. So then when somebody pointed out a devotion they’d read based on Pink Floyd, I let my iPod lead my therapy. Funny how easily we avoid the real stuff that’s pushing us around and end up walking, quite willingly, into the cage that we–OURSELVES–created.
I don’t want to be a wallower. I don’t want to be Waldorf or Stadler (the Muppet critics). But I don’t want to be Kermit, either. I just want to be me–owning up to what God created me to be, how God made me. Not trapped or wallowing or sinking, I want to look honestly at myself and live. Balance, baby.
‘Tis the Season (I guess) December 22, 2011
I’m melancholy and in a funk. I can’t get away from it. According to the country music station I was listening to on the way into work this morning, I’m supposed to be thrilled about this time of year. All of the songs are sappy and sentimental (and don’t get me wrong, I do sappy and sentimental with the best of them!), and so I changed the channel. Why is it that this time of year makes me more edgy? Traffic congestion and bargains abound. I was in Dick’s Sporting Goods the other night that advertises their closing time as 9:30 pm (I even found a church member there hurrying like I was to make the closing time), but the sales person saw my frantic face and comforted me with the news that they were open until 11. When I looked up from the “on sale” rack, I saw a tired looking, hesitant face looking back at me. I told her I was sorry that Christmas ruined her social life (and I meant it!). She said she’d worked 40 hours so far this week, and it was only Tuesday. In some strange way, I felt like I identified with her. Then I ran into the church member and told her that she had until 11. She was relieved. When I moved on to look for a cute warm-up suit for my daughter, I thought about the year this particular church member has had. Her husband had gotten one of the most terrifying diagnoses imaginable this year (and he’s doing great and the prognosis is good, by the way). I wonder what this season feels like for her. I wonder if she thought about that all while she was shopping. For me, that’s usually why I like Christmas shopping so much–it gives me time to think and process. I need time to think and process and it’s often hard to come by. Life is so fragile and these markers of time (holidays) can find sensitive spots in our psyche quite well. And, it hit me (while examining basketballs) that my numb feeling, my melancholy funk, is because I’ve got some raw spots. Since my dad died in November, I haven’t had time to sit and think. I haven’t made the time. In some weird way, all of this reflection just gets me thinking that the birth of Jesus is more real than Christmas. The birth of Jesus had the reality of death all around it; Christmas is about singing things like “from now on our troubles will be out of sight” (REALLY?). The birth of Jesus didn’t have any turkeys and Christmas trees and lots of lights…just some livestock and hay and stars….and did I mention hay? I think that once all of the gift-giving is over that I might be able to settle down, but right now, I’m just glad that being a follower of Jesus doesn’t require me to wear red and green in December or enjoy listening to radio stations that play all Christmas music (makes me want to throw up)–not that I would begrudge anyone their enjoyment of such things. I just know how I feel right now. So this year, I’m rebelling against Christmas. I want to be about more than lights and trees (although, real trees make scents!). I am excited about contributing to “Advent Conspiracy”, a good idea to pay for wells to be dug in the Sudan. I may be in a funk, but that just makes me more cranky about the fact that a lack of safe drinking water is responsible for more deaths than anything else, particularly in poorer countries. That is ridiculous. So my funk just makes me want to dig wells for a while; maybe that is how I ought to think and reflect.
Real People Living Real Lives October 27, 2011
“Jesus is dying to be where real people live real lives.” I had no sooner said it than all of the levels of meaning in that statement flooded and overwhelmed my mental circuitry. Of all the theories and interpretations of the death of Jesus on a Roman cross, the one thing I am sure about, at least from my reading of the stories in the Bible, is that Jesus refused to do violence to anyone, even those who might have deserved it. Jesus was so intent on living a sincerely loving life that he died that way, too. And he died in the midst of all of the anger and hatred that emerge from fear that the world has to offer. Jesus was so intent on being where real people live real lives that it got him killed. So what are we afraid of?
I’ve been looking around Charlotte lately and trying to identify some things that make this a cool place to be. it is cool, and part of it is because the city has life and energy. Part of it is the diversity that’s all around us. Charlotte is more than a banking and financial center; it is rich with diverse lifestyles, ethnicities, interests, possibilities, and spiritual viewpoints. Charlotte has a million different stories–literally! And in this place, which sometimes feels like we are casting about for an identity, we are real people living real lives. We listen to the radio and sometimes we are surprised to hear a still, small voice reminding us that we are connected to something, something deep down, something real.
That’s what I think Jesus was most interested in. I don’t think he came to start a new world religion and I don’t think he came to give new ways to feel guilty. I think Jesus came to show us how to treat each other and ourselves–how to be real people living real lives, doing real things, meaningful things. I think Jesus was most interested in teaching us to be real, truthful, authentic, compassionate, and always with love. Jesus’s love was not cheesy or saccharin, but real and genuine. And so, Jesus was never afraid to go where real people live real lives; he died to be where real people live real lives. I think Jesus wanted to teach and live a real and true connection to the Creator and to each other. That’s what I think it means to be a follower of Jesus: we go, even if it hurts and challenges us, to where real people live real lives. That’s also what I want to be.
Packaging and Substance (October 13, 2011)
When Steve Jobs, the founder, visionary, and re-visionary of Apple/Macintosh, died recently, any of us who had any experience with Apple products probably took some time to think back. Sure, he was hailed by pundits and experts, financiers and economists alike, as a genius. I think that’s about right. He didn’t invent the computer, but he made computers usable for everyday folks. But what I immediately thought about when my son texted me that Jobs had died was the sensation of opening up my very first Mac.
Every single thing about it felt significant, from the box, to the twist ties on the chords, to the Styrofoam packing, right down to the instructions. I remember, maybe more than anything, the bag that covered that computer—I refused to throw it away because it felt significant. That computer, a Mac Classic II, recorded thousands of pages of thoughts, stories, exams, notes, papers, letters, reports, sermons, church bulletins, spread sheets, and…you get the point. In an odd technological way, that computer offered significance. Everything about the packaging and the substance inside spoke of significance, importance, and the freedom to look for the creativity and imagination in me. I may not have saved the world through that computer, but that feeling of significance made me feel like the best of me was perfectly accessible. The best, though, wasn’t the packaging, but it was the substance of the product–my Mac Classic II worked and worked exceedingly well. Mac products look and feel significant, and their substance and usability are significant.
THAT is how church ought to feel. When we get church right, everything that we do ought to be significant in substance as well as perception—truly, everything in life is significant, so it only makes sense that the only problem we have is in highlighting and realizing it. Those of us to whom the church is entrusted ought to be obsessed with making sure that anyone who comes around us senses in their guts that they are significant to us and to God. When people come inside our doors,our job is to show people, even if it’s for the first time in their lives, that they are significant and that everything that their time with us is significant—packaging and substance.
New Life in Christ (?) June 16, 2011
We do this thing in church where we assume that everybody knows what we’re talking about–insider language. Yesterday I got on a website for a congregation of a different religion to find out what they are all about and I was lost; they assumed their visitors already knew the lingo. I didn’t know the lingo, so I logged off and put my head on my desk for a short nap. When I woke up, it hit me that Christians do a terrible job of speaking to folks who aren’t in on the lingo. So if somebody asks us why they ought to be Christian, we start to talk about things like “new life in Christ,” God’s grace, the kingdom of God. To be sure these sound impressive, but if you didn’t grow up in church (and maybe even if you did!), what the heck does “new life in Christ” really mean? I mean, why should someone decide to follow Jesus? What if I am relatively happy and treat others well? Why take advantage of this new life that is explained in confusing language? The fine print is always the kicker, you know.
The new life Jesus offers ought to make sense to somebody who has never embraced it. It is surely about knowing that I don’t have to carry guilt around for all of the crappy things I’ve done and thought about doing. I don’t have to live a disconnected life just because I’ve made mistakes. Jesus was all about connection, in particular with God and with people. Our mistakes (aka sins) often separate us from God and each other, from creation as a whole and even from ourselves. The new life Jesus invites us to be a part of is more; it is a different way of reconnecting, of being part of something so big of an adventure that it transforms us. When following Jesus of Nazareth, whom followers call Christ (the One anointed by God), we suddenly see some of the stuff we chase in this life is really goofy, and, in fact, has little or no real value. Some of the things that we just ignored turn out to be the most important things in the world. New life in Christ is about seeing what really matters, not just in this morning’s new cycle, but for the long view, even the long view after we die.
For a long time the church has made a living offering heaven and hell as our two choices for life. This is really a stupid choice, you know–life just isn’t that simple, now is it? I follow the Way of Jesus because I believe that the way he served God and showed us how to connect and reconnect with Life is the best way. I trust this life to Jesus and his way–and I trust the next life to him, too! I think Jesus was just that connected to God. In fact, I think he was so connected to God from the beginning that you can’t tell where one of them ends and the other begins. New life begins when we join up with Jesus follow in his footsteps wherever he takes us. In fact, this new life is not something that only a few special folks who know the lingo get to be part of. If we are really living a new life with Jesus, we’ll do what he did and welcome others on the Way with us.
Small Easters
April 26, 2011
Even if somebody doesn’t believe that Jesus of Nazareth was really raised from the dead on the Easter morning; even is somebody doesn’t believe in God the way we talk about God in church; most folks have some idea that Christians believe that Easter was a pretty cosmic thing. Our Easter songs are mostly big, brassy, triumphal songs that rely on high notes and the fullest voices our choirs can muster. The fanfares are almost royal in their joy. And for all of that, I was struck this year at how quiet and personal the empty tomb was.
In the Gospel of John, once Jesus was brought to life, there were no trumpets, organs, choirs, or even electric guitars. There was just an empty tomb and only one person who Jesus talked to at the tomb–Mary Magdalene. Shoot, Jesus didn’t even talk to Peter and John, two of Jesus’s friends, when they went to the tomb. At the tomb, despite the fact that other people were around, Jesus only talked to Mary. I don’t know why that is, but I think it has something to do with how much Jesus valued her. The way John tells this part of the story (John 20:1-18), you could easily overlook all of the cosmic and all of the fanfare because the story is so personal and even simple. It was a personal encounter between Jesus and Mary. So, even if she told everybody else about it, I wouldn’t expect any of them to fully understand what she had experienced. Maybe I need to see the Resurrection that way.
We can get so caught up in grand theologies, grandiose ideas, and grandstanding language, but when it comes to experiencing Jesus it is so much more personal. Mary’s relationship with Jesus was different from Peter’s, which was different from John’s; they all knew the same man in very different ways. I think that’s more how it is for us. Preachers and writers can talk about our own beliefs and experiences, but when it all comes down to it, we Christians have to be humble enough to know that the risen Christ will meet people ways that might be different from ours–maybe quiet and personal ways that nobody else fully understands.
Peace,
Jonathan