The Future at KPUMC

by Rev. Eric Folkerth

As you know, The Kessler School has purchased a new building for their use in North Oak Cliff. Following their departure, much of our building will be empty during the week, and we will lose significant rental income that we’ve counted on from them in the past. 

While the pandemic has delayed much activity on these issues during the past year, I thought I’d update you all on what’s happening more recently as we start to “open up” again.

First, about a month ago, the leadership of our Parents Day Out Program (PDO), Pastor Kay and LaTara Thompkins, drew up a conceptual model for expansion of that program going forward. They presented two models to the Church Council in March.

The incredibly good news is this: There are credible models for PDO expansion that could in all likelihood replace much, if not all, of the loss in rental income from The Kessler School. (In an upcoming newsletter, we’ll publish the information so you can all digest this information for yourselves)

But, the financial benefit would be just one small factor in this, of course. The primary driver would be to “serve our mission field.”

Our PDO program continues to have a healthy “wait list,” and we routinely turn away families that we wish we had space to serve. An expanded PDO could absolutely serve as an engine for new visitors and families to KPUMC as well.

So, Kay and LaTara have already started working with the PDO Advisory Board to flesh out these conceptual plans. The goal would be to create the premiere program for young children in all of North Oak Cliff. (Stay tuned!)

Even with a greatly expanded PDO program, we will still have much more building space to repurpose.

Therefore, at Tuesday’s Church Council meeting, we spent some time hearing from a United Methodist pastor with deep ties to KPUMC: Rev. Mitchell Boone of White Rock UMC. (Mitchell's father and grandparents were members…)

Mitchell has done a remarkable job leading that congregation to new and creative ways of utilizing their building and physical plant. White Rock has moved from a congregation on the brink of extinction to become a crucial part of the far East Dallas community. Both their building use and their Sunday worship (in normal times) have increased significantly in recent years. (BTW….they had 20,000 more square feet of empty space than we do…egad!)

We’ll be sharing more of what Mitchell told us very soon, but he’s got a lot of good ideas that can help our process.

Church Council will soon create a “Vision Team” for the discerning of the future of our building. If you know persons that would be good to have as a part of that team, please let me know.

Additionally, we will likely make some in-person site visits to other churches in our area (including White Rock) to see what they have done and to learn from their experience.

Listening to others —to each other and to our neighborhood— will be a key part of this process. And the “process” will likely be as important as the actual “decisions” we make.

I know and understand that we have done some of this work in the past. But now, we must do it with intention in that the Kessler School’s departure forces these questions on us in a way that are likely both anxiety-causing and deeply clarifying for many of you.

One bit of advice that Mitchell gave us Tuesday that deeply resonates with me is: “Listen to your neighborhood.”

Note, he didn’t say “listen to your longtime members” or even “listen to your *younger* members.” He said, listen to your *neighborhood.*

Doing that will be our first step in discerning our future. Yes, it will be slightly terrifying, but hopefully deeply exciting and energizing. We are well positioned for a bright future as God’s servants in North Oak Cliff.

Our Pets, Our Earth

by Rev. Eric Folkerth

What if we treated the Earth the way we treat our pets?

I know, it’s a strange question, but bear with me…

We’ll celebrate Earth Day during “Church on the Lawn” this Sunday (April 25, 11 am). Our KPUMC member, Kelly Longfellow, will present some of her wisdom about our own Christian tradition and its call for us to care for the Earth. (She’s been doing graduate level research on this subject the past few years…)

We’ll also offer a “Blessing of the Animals” for you all. Bring your pets with you —literally, any pet is fine, so long as you can control it— and our staff will offer a blessing for you and your pet.

Our pets are a crucial part of our families, aren’t they?

They walk this journey of life with us, and they give endless joy and love to us. For example, our dog Daisy is there for the good and the bad. When times are difficult, she comes and lays at our feet. She coaxes us out of our depression and calls us to “play.”

And in response, we care for her.

And you care for *your* pets too. You shower them with love and affection.

What if we did the same for the Earth?

Christian theology has been both a help and a hindrance to the cause of caring for God’s good created Earth. Negatively, the Creation Myth itself has often been twisted beyond recognition. In Genesis Chapter 1, when God gives human beings the Garden of Eden, God tells them they can “subdue” it. But in Chapter 2, God uses different language, and invites them to “cultivate and keep it.” 

Far too many Christians have heard the first command and totally failed to hear the second. They have used Christianity —and this one word, “subdue”— as a theological justification, and weapon, for the Earth’s destruction and degradation. My theology professor, John Holbert suggests, btw, that reading the word as “subdue” is a MIS-reading. It actually means more like “be a steward of” the Earth.

But however we read this first command, it’s very clear we are not living up to the second…the command to “cultivate and keep” the Earth. The word “cultivate” has the meaning of “be a slave to.” In other words, this was never intended to be a “lording over,” or “above” creation. God’s command was intended to be an inviting to live *with* the created world.

But, somehow, the human animal has thrown Earth’s natural processes into chaos.

What’s the path back?

That gets me back to our pets, and the image I’d like to place in your heads: Treat the whole of Earth the way you treat your pets.

We love and care for them. And *they* are part of God’s creation. So, what if we simply extended out that love and care —beyond the walls of our own homes— and to the world itself?

We preachers use this same dynamic with human children all the time. We say to parents: “Treat all human beings you meet as if they were your own children.”

It’s a way of inviting us all to see the “Other” as actually a part of our family. Which is, of course, what God wants us to do.

I’m saying: just do that same thing, but with your pets. Love God’s good Earth with the love and care that you love your pets.

As you would your beloved pets, give the Earth clean water, food, and nourishment.

Allow the Earth the chance to rest.

When the Earth is sick, ask how you can help it heal, and then do that.

Play with the Earth, but do not dominate it.

Live in harmony with Earth as if it’s a part of your family, not above or separate from it.

That most dangerous fiction we Christians ever believed is that we can live above or separate from Earth itself, lording over it like lesser gods.

Our destiny is, in fact, deeply interconnected with the life and legacy of all creation. If Earth thrives, we do. If Earth dies, we do too. 

The key to this —as it is to almost everything good— is compassion. See the Earth not as an “other” or as a problem to be overcome, but as a part of your family, and your life. 

Because it is.

Holy Moments

by Rev. Eric Folkerth

As I write these words in mid-April, I’m struck by how ordinary the past two Sundays have been. Let me explain.

The past two Sundays have followed what used to be a very predictable rhythm:
Step one, go to church.
Step two, go to lunch.

For decades of my life, that’s been our Sunday rhythm. I bet it’s the same for many of you, too.

I really don’t need to explain how this ordinary rhythm has been broken for more than a year now. It’s been unsafe to gather indoors at church. We’ve gotten most of our food “to go.”

To be sure, even now things are not “normal.” Our worship was outdoors, and we still sat at distance from others, with masks. At lunch, we sat on a Bishop Arts’ patio. But even with those qualifications, it was the rhythm that suddenly seemed “normal” again.

I thought about how —Sunday after Sunday of my life— there would have been absolutely nothing unusual about that rhythm. In fact, it would have been so absolutely ordinary that I am quite confident I took it for granted. On hundreds of Sundays, I haven’t given that predictable pattern a second thought.

But these past two Sundays, I’ve soaked in every small detail, noticing the beauty in ordinary things…

The collective cadence of member’s voices as they recite the Lord’s Prayer…
Their laughter at bad Dad Jokes…
The sparkle in their eyes, underneath their masks…
The clatter of lunch plates on a restaurant patio table…
Every last morsel of tacos melting on my tongue…
The sun on the faces of other diners as they had similar “normal” moments…

Again, none of these things are in the least bit remarkable. And before the pandemic robbed me of this normal rhythm, I am quite confident they happened hundreds of times without notice.

But these average moments took on special depth and feeling. These past two Sundays, these little moments have felt holy.

In the Gospel of Luke, the story is told of two disciples walking along the “Road to Emmaus.” It’s after Jesus’ resurrection, and he comes to walk alongside them. Except — for reasons that are never explained— they don’t recognize that it’s him.

They are depressed and melancholy. But they walk with him anyway, talking about the scriptures. When they get to where they are going, they invite him to stay for a meal.

Luke says that in the moment bread is broken — a normal moment around a normal dinner table— they realize who he is. But the moment this happens, he vanishes from sight.

“Weren’t our hearts on fire when he spoke to us along the road?” they ask.

They look back, and they see things that, from one perspective were completely ordinary and normal, were in fact “holy moments” from another.

This is so for us as well. Even in life’s most ordinary moments, God is there…
In the clatter of lunch plates.
The murmur of friends’ voices.
The breaking of bread.

We have suffered so much this past year, and we have lost so many experiences and so much time that can never be recovered. But we can at least resolve to pay attention to the beauty, grace, and hope of “ordinary rhythm” as we move forward.

As your world opens back up, keep your eyes open for these kinds of holy moments, when they happen to you, too.

Don’t miss them.