From Glover to Governor, Dark Moon Rising

Wow, what an up and down week for the state of South Carolina. Last Monday Lucas Glover won the US Open Golf Championship. He hails from Greenville, SC (Actually, Greer) and graduated from Clemson. The TV announcers made a point of talking about his humility, being a southern gentleman, and how nobody from SC had ever won such a Major Golf Championship. He and his wife fell in love when they were both 15 and have been married for 6 or 7 years, if I remember what I heard. I do know he said he and his wife have been "soul-mates." He's a class act and a great representative of South Carolina.

Then there's Governor Mark Sanford. SC went from one of its finest hours with a favorite son in Lucas Glover to one of its most shameful in Sanford. I think Jenny Sanford is a classy lady and has acted as best she can: firm with hope, not smiling by her husband in some fakey photo-op. I hope he was in Argentina to break it off, but, from what I hear, Jenny didn't want him down there at all. What a dunce. I already thought so because of his not accepting the stimulus money in a state that needs teachers to do their jobs, and has the hghest unemployment rate in the nation. What was he thinking - oh, now we know and what with. I know we're all human and I'm surely a long way from being perfect. I also know that sanctification is a God-given grace, but we have to cooperate! When was the last time you saw somebody blush? We are headed over the precipice in slack living. We need Jesus and a heavy dose of responsibility - sounds like United Methodist theology to me - personal piety and social holiness. From Glover to the Governor, what a bummer!

Bears Up There or Lions Down Here

I left yesterday afternoon for 6 nights away, dashed to Asheville, stopped at an Ingle's and bought supplies then drove through the swirling mists of late afternoon to Mt. Mitchell - my Fortress of Solitude though I'm certainly no Superman. The rhododendrum were in perfect bloom and the temp was 30 degrees cooler than Columbia. I got to the peak at 8:45 pm, 15 minutes before closing - ready to unpack, cook some supper, and put on my reading light, crawl into my sleeping bag to read myself to sleep. But... the campground was closed.

I went back down to the ranger station and asked, "What's up!?" He said that they had several hours earlier shut down the camping area because of BEARS. Several Black Bears had ripped into an occupied tent, no injuries, and two cars - trying to get to food. Therefore, the campground is shut down for the next 9 days. I thought about heading to one of the National Forest roads 5 miles up that you can camp at, but bears could eat my Mini Cooper with too much ease. So I traveled last night up the Blue Ridge Parkway to Crabtree Meadows. I've camped and hiked there since college days. It's not as high in elevation, but the scenery is nice. One problem - it was raining cats and dogs, and I've done the put-up-the-tent- in- the- rain deal before. So, with wondering what to do in my heart I went to Spruce Pine and ate at the Burger King, hoping the weather would let up. It got worse and worse. SO... I called Cindy and said, "I'm coming home, it will be late, don't be frightened." It rained all the way home until 15 miles from Columbia. I crawled into bed a little after 2 a.m. with a weird afternoon and evening's journey under my belt. I did get to feel the 58 degree air and see the balsam and douglas firs, the swirls of clouds, and the flowers, but I'm back!

But today it's been one phone call and email after another and another about either ill or well-intentioned dragons in churches, screwy decisions, and making interpretations about the Book of Discipline. Power and control people have been sharp on my heels all day. Here is where I am right now: I rather be eaten by the bears up there than by the lions down here. What does that mean? If you have ever had to work with people, especially church people - you know. I may just pack up my car and head back up there, though it won't be the same if it's not Mt. Mitchell. I know I can still read my Bible, novels, and eat all the junk food I bought sitting comfortably on my sofa and just not go to work. But thanks to having a cell signal here and a computer, the work comes to me. On Mitchell I'm all alone except for God. So, stay tuned, the mountains are still calling and I'd rather be eaten by bears up there than by the lions down here! Ever felt that way?

The Mountain is Calling!

The tyranny of the urgent things is killing me. By this time every year I have already been to Mt. Mitchell at least 3-4 times, but not this year. Cindy's mother has been sick and in and out of the hospital at least 5 times in the last three months so that's been a priority. Appointment-making for the Cabinet was tough this year with so few retirements and churches cutting salaries out from under positions. There were fewer moves but more attention needed and received for each one. Lately, I've been under the gun of trying to make a R-1 Visa application work for a new Korean pastor. We have to resubmit all kinds of info and I've pored over detail after detail because we really need this to work out. The Korean pastor is a model of faithfulness. He gave up being a medical doctor in Korea making $300k to being a full-time local pastor here with a Duke M.Div. making in the $30k range. He's a great guy and that church is going to grow!

Conference whipped me, not at all for the usual reasons. It wasn't the parliamentarian bit although I can't have a brain-break when I'm trying to follow all of the discussion and anticipate what amendments or motions might be made. Actually Conference was pretty bland, except for the good preaching and the hoopla over the consitutional amendments. I'm glad we came out 85% to 15% against the worldwide UMC ones. A lot of my energy at conference went to clergy in the Columbia District. I was all over the map literally with 3 trips to McLeod's Emergency Room in Florence, to driving back after a conference session to see one of the clergy in a Heart Hospital in Columbia. There hasn't been any let up since last week. Cindy's mother was back in the Emergency Room, one of our clergy had a heart procedure, another had a purported mild heart attack and hospitalized. Another's mother died, and another former clergy died yesterday. Wow! I'm praying for everyone to get healthy and stay that way!

So, this coming Tuesday (Cindy doesn't know yet, so it's iffy), I'm headed to Mt. Mitchell to be alone, sit and read, hike out to Mt. Craig, and stoke the fire. Yes, at 6684 feet, you need a fire even in June. As John Muir said, "The moutains are calling and I must go!" Where do you go to to escape the tyranny of the urgent?

Annual Conference

Annual Conference is upon us and I hope we have part revival, part business, and all holy conferencing. I love Annual Conference! Now, of course, there are moments when things get tedious at best, and I'm on a short leash by being parliamentarian. As age progresses the restroom breaks become very much anticipated! I've thought about wearing sunglasses this year because the glare from the stage lights creates a haze after a day or so. I bet many people think the same thing about the glare off of my bald head.

This is an important conference for me. My middle child, Josh, is going to be commissioned Sunday night. That's an incredible milestone on his way to ordination. He's exhibiting such marvelous gifts for ministry at Bethel in Rock Hill. He and his wife Karen are a blessing in so many ways!

This conference is also important because of the Constitutional Amendments that we will be voting on on Monday. If you know me well, my passion with these surrounds the 23 worldwide UMC amendments. If they are passed we could see connectionalism go down the drain, and a regionalistic diocesan polity take over. Wesley's words, "The world is my parish!" would be changed to "my neighborhood." Sure, our neighborhood is our parish, but if we are to truly be global Christians, we cannot fragment who we are into regions that dispose of our unity.

I hope I don't have to speak on this issue because parliamentarians are supposed to be impartial and not speak, or even vote by voice or show of hand. Nevertheless, this issue is too important to not speak. We'll see. This isn't about conservative or liberal - it's about our ecclesiology; i.e., Connectionalism. I look forward to seeing how it all shakes out.

My favorite thing about Annual Conference is renewal of relationships. When one gives their life tothe ministry their church membership is literally transferred to the Annual Conference. It is my local church, and I love the fellowship with laity and clergy as we get to see each other, sing, hear good preaching, and make those all-important decisions that will shape our life together for years to come. See you Sunday!

Friends Are Forever

A week ago today I helped do the funeral service for my mentor and dear friend Delos Corderman. Today is Ascension Day and I have Corderman on my mind, and his family: Evelyn, Amy, Laura, Greg, Bill, and the "Prince" - Delos' grandson, Nicholas. Delos gave so much of himself to this Annual Conference as our Conference Secretary and as Pension/Credit Union/Benefits Officer. He was sometimes hard to understand because he was so smart, but the thing that always rang clear was his love for Christ and his love in helping people. He had his "Hit" list of lazy preachers but even with them he was always fair. His humor was ribald and mostly unrepeatable, but always unforgettable. We will miss him. I believe in the Communion of Saints. The Church Triumphant in heaven and the Church Militant on earth have a mysterious but very real co-mingling that inspires, encourages, and lives forever. Corderman's influence will be a continual gauge for my actions, and I hope that I make him proud. South Carolina has lost a hero.

When I think about Delos as a mentor and the tie that binds across eternity in the Communion of Saints, I'm remined this morning of one of his stories:

Two men, walking through the woods, come across a big deep hole.
"Wow . . . that looks deep," says one.
"Sure does," says the other. "Toss a few pebbles in there and see how deep it is."
They pick up a few pebbles and throw them in and wait . . . no noise.
"Hey, that is REALLY deep," says the first man. "Here, throw one of these great big rocks down there. That should make a noise."
They pick up a couple of football-sized rocks and toss them into the hole and wait . . . and wait. Nothing. They look at each other in amazement.
One gets a determined look on his face and says, "Hey . . . over here in the weeds, there's a railroad tie. Help me carry it over here. When we toss THAT in, it's GOTTA make some noise."
The two drag the heavy tie over to the hole and heave it in. Not a sound comes from the hole. Suddenly, out of the nearby woods, a goat appears, running like the wind. It rushes toward the two men, then right past them, running as fast as its legs will carry it. Suddenly it leaps in the air and into the hole. The two men are astonished with what they've just seen.
Then, out of the woods comes a farmer who spots the men and ambles over. "Hey . . . you two guys seen my goat out here?"
One of the men says, "You bet we did! Craziest thing I ever seen. It came running like crazy and just jumped into this hole!"
"Nah," says the farmer, "That couldn't have been MY goat. My goat was chained to a railroad tie."

Who or what are we tied to? I want to be tied to great men like Delos Corderman, not someone who pulls me down, but lifts me up; tied to Jesus who always ascends to defend us and sends His helpers like Delos to do the same.

Mother is Forever!

I miss my mother. There’s no simpler statement and there’s none more fraught with emotion. My brothers and I were blessed to have a wonderful mother. She was a tomboy at heart and didn’t mind getting dirty. Mother had the best laugh and she was terrific at crafts. She put together the most imaginative things! She didn’t take herself so seriously. She loved other people. She was a spitfire at times. She worked hard whether it was in the garden, at my grandfather’s country store, or in the house. She was a lady, too. I remember her many hats that she decorated. She wasn’t plain, but she certainly wasn’t showy. She was a sublime mixture of outgoing charm and quiet dignity.

Yes, we miss her. The odd thing that I’ve been remembering lately is the graceful subtle way she always said, “Certainly,” whenever someone had the occasion of saying, “Excuse me.” In the sweet humility of her alto voice, her simple use of “Certainly” as a response to one of her children’s or anyone else’s faux pas was pure grace. She was so forgiving and understanding. Memories of mother flood my mind and I feel like Forrest Gump all awash in matriarchal adulation. If you remember the movie, you have to remember Forrest’s mother.

We all have stories to tell about either our mothers or those who mothered us. One day isn’t enough thanks either. In our festival-oriented society egg salad gets a whole week, as do pickled peppers, split pea soup, clowns, carpenter ants, and aardvarks. Peanut butter (March), chickens (September), and oatmeal (January) each rate a whole month. How can we do less for mothers? Impossible!

So let’s dedicate ourselves to the highest ideals of motherhood for longer than a day and more than National Family Week. Let’s solemnly promise to put our faith to the test in a way that even the motto WWJD can’t touch. Asking, “What would Jesus do?” is great to be sure. But, right now I think that it would help my Christianity more if I simply asked, “What would Mother do? What would Mother say? What would Mother think?” I don’t think Jesus would mind a bit. He’s been using mothers as His best allies ever since ever since.

So let’s give our mothers and the world the best present that we can this Mother’s Day. Let’s actually try to think and act like mothers. Let’s never forget to value our mothers because they are irreplaceable. On behalf of my brothers, Carlee and Ralph, we salute our Mother, Sadie Emma Jackson McClendon, our beloved mother, 1917-1993, until eternity.

Stuck in Life's Cracks

Well, Life does have its moments, doesn't it? It's a Monday morning and the week is backed up every day with appointments, meetings, letter-writing, conflict management and so much more. Every day the tyranny of the urgent is sudden, overwhelming, unexpected.

I feel like one of the disciples scared, apprehensive, and panicky on the boat with Jesus during the storm on the Sea of Galilee. I want Him on deck to rebuke the wind and the waves and say those all important words, "Peace, Be still!" I know in my head that Jesus is with me through life's unexpected storms, but it's my heart that is unsettled. The 18-inch connection between head and heart needs reconnecting this morning. I've had my devotional and prayed, but, nevertheless, sense a antsy anticipation of "What next!?" I know that it will be something, out of nowhere, and my --- will be stuck in a tree, in a crack. Help me, Jesus, get loose and walk by faith and not by sight, to trust you when stuff happens - even as I wrote the first part of this sentence, my cell phone rang with something unexpected and before I could even finish this, my office phone rang with another crisis - such is life.

Yes, such is life stuck in the cracks, but the good news for me and you today is that Jesus has been in the crack, too, then broke free and will break us free. No matter what happens today, Jesus is on our side and will deliver us. He pulls us through - may it be so. Lord, I believe, help my unbelief.