When We Butt Heads in the Pews

My central thesis in preaching and teaching on Matthew is that one of the author’s major concerns in writing the gospel was teaching his readers how the community of faith was supposed to live together.

Being part of the faith community is a non-negotiable for Jesus. As I have said in the pulpit recently, there are no Lone Ranger Christians. You can’t follow Jesus all by yourself; the path of discipleship wasn’t designed to be a solitary road.

Sometimes we wish we could walk it by ourselves, because it’s not always easy to be part of a community. We might discover we are called to follow Jesus alongside people whom we may not particularly like. Or we may protest we are too “different.” Or we might say, “I’m not comfortable around people like that.” We might not like the way another member of the community prays or sings; we may disagree with their politics, or find their wardrobe distasteful.

But that’s all beside the point in the faith community, or “church,” if you like. When God calls us to follow , there is always a group of disciples ready to accompany us on our journey of faith. And these disciples are just as flawed and imperfect as you and I are. We learn on the road together. That’s the beauty and the struggle of church.

Fortunately, the Gospel of Matthew also gives us some great advice on how to navigate the conflict which will ultimately confront any church. In the eighteenth chapter, Jesus gives us a three-step process and one guiding principle by which disciples are supposed to handle conflict.

The three-step process goes like this:

1) “If your brother or sister sins against you, go and correct them when you are alone together. If they listen to you, then you’ve won over your brother or sister.” (Matthew 18:15)

This step is the best piece of advice I’ve ever heard, and as a pastor, it is the primary way I advise all staff and laypeople to act towards each other: if someone has wronged you, then you are supposed to go to that person directly and speak to them about it. Not to a third party, nor to Facebook, nor to anyone else.

This is also the least-followed piece of advice I have ever given. It’s difficult to confront people with whom you are in conflict. I know that because it’s hard for me, too. However, it’s the best way to address conflict, and it prevents things from circulating on the rumor mill or gossip circuit. Most conflict in the church would immediately cease if this practice were followed as a general rule by everyone.

However, Jesus recognized that this tactic wouldn’t always work …

2) “But if they won’t listen, take with you one or two others so that every word may be established by the mouth of two or three witnesses.” (Matthew 18:16)

If the situation escalates, Jesus recommends that you take one or two friends with you to confront the person with whom you feud. The presence of others keeps everyone honest, and can de-escalate tension.

But if that doesn’t work …

3) “But if they still won’t pay attention, report it to the church. If they won’t pay attention even to the church, treat them as you would a Gentile and tax collector.” (Matthew 18:17)

This step sounds extreme; in fact, it sounds as if it can be used as justification for kicking someone out of a church. But is that a bad thing?

Let me suggest some moderating thoughts about this passage:

First, I believe that this is an extreme step to be taken only when and if someone’s behavior is harming someone else. We can all think of situations in which a church member’s actions could be so destructive that we would have to take drastic measures to keep them from hurting people in the congregation.

However, this process ensures that there would be no arbitrary and punitive measure taken against anyone. If there is a problem, the offender is confronted privately first; if he or she doesn’t respond to mend the problem, only then is the matter widened to a larger group of people.

And third, scholars have argued that treating people like Gentiles and tax collectors isn’t as bad as it sounds. After all, we know how Jesus treated Gentiles and tax collectors — he ate and drank with them! He treated them as people worthy of his time and attention!

Finally, there is one overriding general principle that Jesus preaches about community life — forgiveness. Just after teaching this process of conflict resolution, Peter asked Jesus, “But what if the same person keeps sinning against me? How many times do I have to put up with it? How many times do I have to forgive — as many as seven times?”

We all know how Jesus answered: “Not seven times, but seventy times seven.”

Forgiveness is the heart of church life. This is the only thing that will hold us together in the end. For we will offend each other, we will sin against each other, and we will say harmful things and do hurtful things. That's just the way humans do each other.

But as the redeemed disciples of Jesus, we have a remedy for reconciliation — the ability to say, “I forgive you.”

Let’s learn to say that a little more frequently.

What I Know About Fasting I Learned From Muslims

Lent is the 40-day period leading up to Easter, during which Christians are encouraged to fast and pray. To be honest, I didn’t know much about fasting until a few years ago, when I decided to fast during Ramadan with some of my Muslim friends. I blogged about what I learned each one of the thirty days. Here is my first entry from that experience in July 2012:

I woke up at 4:20 am this morning, ate four hard-boiled eggs and a blueberry bagel, swallowed down a cup of coffee, and sat down to pray.

And I haven’t eaten or had a drink since.

The clock reads 6:26 pm, and I still have over two hours to go.

This is the first day of Ramadan, the holiest month for Muslims around the world. For thirty days, Muslims fast from all food and drink from dawn to sunset.

I decided to observe Ramadan this year, for a number of reasons which I will explain over the next thirty days. I plan to blog about the experience, too.

I have tried my hand at fasting in many different ways over my lifetime, most recently with a regular Friday fast from sunrise to 3 pm. Fasting has never come easy for me – that may be the point!? – but I have certainly come to value the spiritual rigor and discipline of abstaining from food for extended periods of time.

We American Christians aren’t really all that good at fasting; it’s never been high on our list of spiritual disciplines. Even in the one season of the church calendar in which we are supposed to fast, Lent, we manage to find ways to minimize and downplay the sacrificial aspect of the fast. We give up chocolate or soft drinks for an entire forty days – woohoo, that should bring us closer to Christ!

That’s why I’ve always been fascinated by the extreme fasting that most Muslims practice during Ramadan – no food or drink during daylight for thirty whole days!

Recently, I’ve felt a little stale, dry even, in my own spiritual life. I do the normal, daily things; I go through my regular routine of prayer and Bible reading. But it doesn’t seem as rich and as profound. I’ve found myself deeply distracted by things happening in the world, including by matters related to the United Methodist Church.

I took a meeting with my good friend, Shaikh Yaseen, the imam (religious leader) of a mosque in Plano, part of the Islamic Association of Collin County. We have been friends for several years, and recently I attended the dedication of the new wing of the mosque.

When I told him that I was considering observing Ramadan, he grinned and said, “Brilliant!” in his British accent. “It’s intense, you know.”

I informed him that I was well aware of what such a commitment meant, but asked him to give me a deeper understanding of what it meant.

“Ramadan is a fast of the body, of course,” he said. “But even more importantly, it’s a fast of the hands and feet and eyes, and finally, of the mind. It’s a time to become very aware of God and to be completely obedient.”

I am intrigued by the fact that “Islam” means “submission,” and that, fundamentally, the Islamic faith is an attempt to practice submission to God’s will on a daily basis. This is not a foreign idea to Christians – this was Jesus’ stated approach, as well. He famously said, in the Garden of Gethsemane, “Not my will, but yours be done.” He also once said that whoever did the will of his Father in heaven, were his brother and sister and mother.

The core of both Islamic and Christian faith is the quest to know, and to live within, the will of the one God.

Yaseen went on to explain that, during Ramadan, Muslims read through the Quran, make special financial gifts for the needy, and attend prayer time at the mosque daily. It is, in fact, a month of searching, of devotion, of love of God and neighbor. It is a living symbol of one’s hunger and thirst for the true God.

That’s what appeals to me in my current spiritual tepidity. I feel as if I need a jolt to my senses. And I know that observing Ramadan will deliver a burst of hungering and thirsting for God – a God whom Muslims call “Allah,” and whom Christians call “Father.”

But there’s another reason that I have chosen to “act like a Muslim” over the next thirty days. I truly want to stand in solidarity with my friend, Yaseen, and his congregation in Plano. I want them to know that I do not resent their presence in my community and country. In fact, I am very glad that they are here.

Not only do I stand with the Plano Muslims, but I have also begun to make friends with Muslim refugees from Iraq, Somalia, and Sudan. I’ve previously written about Mohammed, a young Sudanese Muslim who often attends our Sunday evening house church gathering. The last time I served him Communion, he asked if he could pray “for the food” first. After he prayed in Arabic, I happily offered him the bread and cup, symbol of Jesus’ love and sacrifice.

I get to return the favor now. By turning down food and drink during Ramadan, I begin to wear Mohammed’s shoes, live a small part of his life, and catch a glimpse of his own religious commitments and devotion.

I don’t know if I can truly love Mohammed until I do this. I don’t believe that I can truly be Yaseen’s friend until, and unless, I attempt to enter into his story, into his life narrative. I must know what it is like to worship God as a Muslim.

Perhaps then I will learn how to worship God ... as a Christian.

Wish List for the Next Methodism

Permit me to dream a little, or maybe a lot.

The debacle at last week’s General Conference was heartbreaking and tragic, yes, but it’s also an opportunity. Even though the United Methodist Church appears to be irretrievably broken, maybe something new is going to burst through the cracks of the old structure.

I mentioned that there is lots of talk going on at the moment about the possibility of creating a new Methodist movement, a brand-new denomination.

So while we’re talking about it, let’s sketch the contours of what might be ahead, first by considering what we could (finally) leave behind, and second, by dreaming of what we could actually incorporate in a new system.

What of United Methodism could we leave behind?

Obviously, my first answer is that we could leave our homophobia behind. We could leave behind the ridiculous statement that “homosexuality is incompatible with Christian teaching.” But there are other things we could do without, or at least reconsider:

— Our obsession with paperwork, forms, and counting things: Do I really need to say more?

— Lifetime terms for bishops: I would propose that bishops be allowed to serve up to 12 years, then must return to an appointment in their Annual Conference. This would require a true sense of humility and servanthood among bishops, and would equalize their relationships with other clergy.

— Legislating by Robert’s Rules of Order: There are other ways to run meetings besides voting, preferably something which favors spiritual discernment and consensus.

— An appointment system which favors white males: There is an unspoken “ladder of success” in appointments; somehow only white guys end up with the biggest pulpits and biggest salaries.

— Structural racism: See above, but also note that there is an amazing lack of UM resources devoted to south and west Dallas in our own conference.

— Emphasis on buildings and properties: I’ve noticed that appointments in our conference congregate around already-existing buildings, instead of recognizing that the best evangelistic opportunities in our society require being outside of the walls of a physical church.

What should we include in a new Methodism?

Again, my first response would be that a new church must fully affirm and include LGBTQ people. This is a non-negotiable. But there are other things that we might consider:

— Equalized clergy pay: In the Methodist Church of Great Britain, all pastors make the same salary, with only slight adjustments based on years served. This would completely eliminate the competition that pastors in the US feel about “moving up the appointment ladder.”

— Greater flexibility in pastoral appointments, including those outside of traditional church settings: Over the last few years, younger clergy candidates are consistently opting out of ordination because they feel called to ministry outside of the local church. We must find a way to allow them to follow their call while supporting them with a network of accountability.

— Greater flexibility in local church organization: If you’ve ever served on a church committee, you know that we are required to have a Board of Trustees, a Finance Committee, a Staff Parish Relations Committee, a Church Council, as well as a host of other committees or groups to effectively get things done. Small churches often have a difficult time filling all the positions required, so it makes sense to widen the options for organization.

— Conferences to be gatherings for corporate prayer and worship primarily: Every year, our Annual Conference provides numerous experiences to worship together, and these are the moments we remember. We don’t go home with fond memories of the pension report. More worship, less reporting and voting, please.

Those are some of my dreams for something new. What about you? What would you propose we leave behind? What do you hope we could include?