I spent last week in Hampton as an at-large lay delegate to the Annual Conference of the Virginia United Methodist Church, debating resolutions, hearing and approving committee reports, getting first-hand accounts of General Conference from the Virginia delegation, and joining in fellowship and worship with sisters and brothers from all around our conference and throughout the world. We were especially blessed this year to host Bishop Joao Somane Machado of the United Methodist Church of Mozambique, a team of lay and clergy Volunteers in Mission from Mozambique, leaders from the Stavropol UMC in southern Russia, and several students from the United Methodist-supported Africa University in Zimbabwe.

Conference always provides a much-needed opportunity for catching up with friends whom I rarely see, for enjoying dynamic, empowered worship services which highlight the very best mission and ministry of the Body of Christ, and for participating in the constant visioning which forms and transforms our Conference, as best we can imagine it, into the model and image of Christ.

Highlights from my week in Hampton, of course, abound and defy enumeration here. Some of the most memorable moments include Bishop Pennel's receiving the Fertile Earth Journal's Hope and Humor Award (he was actually present at the banquet and gave a brilliant, hilarious, and deeply thoughtful acceptance speech in which he called this underground group of zazy, prophetic voices "the conscience of our conference" and mused that, without this group to help balance our church leadership the clergy would become a group of career-padders rather than bold proclaimers of good news to the poor and the oppressed), the Africa Now! worship service which lifted up the covenant relationships formed in recent years between Virginia United Methodists and our brothers and sisters in Zimbabwe, Sierra Leone, Mozambique, and Uganda (anyone interested in joining me on an UMVIM team to Uganda next summer?), countless moments of hilarity and bonding with Meredith and Sara at restaurants, bookstores, and beaches, and great conversations with Fred and Irene from Hinton Avenue (whose daughter, a rising ninth-grader in our youth group, is perhaps the coolest high schooler I've ever met and owes much of her unique creativity and passion to these two remarkable and faithful ministers).

Perhaps the most powerful moment of Conference for me, however, came during the Service of Ordination, Commissioning, and Licensing on Monday night. The practice and theology of ordained ministry is learned well before this moment, and new appointments aren't actually fixed until the Conference closes on Wednesday, but this hour of worship is the moment at which the community gathers to affirm that God, who has called certain of us to particular forms of leadership within Christ's Church, is doing something special within these persons. We offer our collective thanks for their willingness to put themselves forward into a vulnerable and sometimes frightening sent ministry and we ask God's continued blessings and guidance upon these new leaders of our congregations. The bishop then examines the candidates for licensing as local pastors, commissioning as probationary elders or deacons in the annual conference, or ordination as elders or deacons in full connection with the historic questions posed by John Wesley to his ministers and lays hands on them and commissions them to live out the call which they and their community have sensed God to be putting on their lives.

I'm amazed, each year, to realize that more and more of the persons being commissioned for ministry in this service are close friends of mine. This year, Will Andrews (of Petersburg District youth and young adult ministry fame, who is also a member of my sister church in Dinwiddie County), Amy Wolz Johnson (a great Camp Rainbow mentor and friend), and Sonja Oliver (who provided clear and compassionate leadership to several of the Conference's All God's Children Camps at which I was an adult mentor) were licensed as local pastors, Chad Herdon (Pburg District youth stalwart and great friend), Herndon Jeffreys (who I learned on our United Methodist Student Movement journey to New York City a couple years ago cannot squigi a windshield to save himself, but has a heart for ministry to God's people in diverse settings), and the visionary and prophetice assistant director of our Wesley Foundation, Deborah Lewish, were commissioned as probationary elders, Ralph Mills from First UMC in Charlottesville was ordained as Deacon in full connection, and Robb Almy (All God's Children) and Bill McClung (Camp Rainbow) were ordained elders.

In many ways, this service is about these persons and their colleagues in this year's ordination class (as well as their friends, families, and the congregations whom they will serve). In other important ways, however, it serves as a time of communal reflection and discernment. After preaching a remarkable sermon on the book of Jonah entitled "Nineveh or Tarshish?" (in which he told us that, while everyone wants to be sent to the wondrous pleasantries of Tarshish, in fact true ministry happens only in the Ninevahs of our world, and really there's much of Nineveh even in the most appealing Tarshishs we think we've found) and officially licensing, commissioning, and ordaining these candidates, Bishop Pennel issued an invitation for anyone who sensed that God might be calling him or her to someday participate as an ordinand in this service to walk down the center aisle, betweeen the newly-ordained ministers and those pastors and family members there to sponsor them, during the closing hymn (how appropriate that it was "The Summons"!) and shake his hand. He instructed the choir director, in the case that folks were still coming after we had sung all five verses, to reach into his memory bank for additional songs. As this body of 4,000+ stood and joyfully sang give or six more hymns, completely from memory, women and men continued to listen to that nudging of the Holy Spirit within them and step out in bold leaps of faith.

I didn't respond to this invitation myself. I'm already a certified candidate for ordained ministry within the church and have been convinced for some time of what these people are newly discovering about themselves. I did, however, feel a similar Spirit-moving within me during this time. In part, it was Bishop Pennel's words about the joy of seeing people in local churches repent of their sin under your pastoral leadership and the grace-filled Ninevah ministry of Jonah and us all, but mostly I think it was the fact that so many faithful members of this conference knew by heart the songs of the faith, that reminded me anew that my deepest interests, my gifts and graces for ministry, find their fullest expression in the work of a local church's pastor. While I certainly feel called to teach (and often find myself considering what a career in academia, with a PhD and writing while teaching at a University or Seminary, might mean for me), I am also called to youth ministry, to preaching, to working with the poor, to ministry with folks with physical and developmental disabilities, to local and international mission work, and to older adult ministry. And perhaps the only place where all of these callings meet in a harmonic and joyful celebration is in the work of the pastor.

Perhaps this is no new revelation at all, and certainly these rushed and inadequate words cannot do justice to the work God is doing in me and in so many of my sisters and brothers in Virginia and around the world, but this was an amazing experience, and this is the best way I can think of to share it with you.

Two things which have happened since I've returned from Conference and relate fully to this musing and then I'm done (really!):

--Last night, our youth group came to prepare dinner for the PT interns and then to join them in a worship service in preparation of the first day of camps at Hinton Avenue and Basic UMCs. It's always exciting for me when the world of youth ministry at Hinton Avenue and the world of campus ministry at the Wesley Foundation (my two spiritual homes during this season of my journey) connect, but this service was particularly special because Deboarah was able, for the very first time, to lead us in the celebreation of the Lord's Supper. It was a mystical experience to witness her call to ordained ministry be realized through the faith community and in the celebration of the sacraments. Thanks be to God!

--I took today off from working with De Colores!/Top Associates in Richmond in order to be in town for the first day of Project Transformation at Hinton Avenue. I picked up a couple of our youth who were also volunteering, and we read with the children of the camp for a little over an hour. It was great to reconnect with a number of the kids from last summer, who remembered me from a million random nicknames and play wrestling matches. These children are amazing, because I haven't seen any of them since last August, but our relationships simply picked right back up where they left off and we had a blast! Also, while Amanda, the intern who's serving as site coordinator for this camp, was going over with us what it means to volunteer with the camp and what sorts of things we might expect to encounter with the children, I found myself really admiring her job. Hmmm....perhaps I'll move toward a closer relationship with PT next summer?

Shalom!

I will extol you, O Lord, for you have drawn me up, and did not let my foes rejoice over me. O Lord my God, I cried to you for help, and you healed me. O Lord, you brought up my soul from Sheol, restored me to life from among those gone down to the Pit. Sing praises to the Lord, O you his faithful ones, and give thanks to his holy name. For his anger is but for a moment; his favor is for a lifetime. Weeping may linger for the night, bu tjoy comes with the morning. As for me, I said in my prosperity, 'I shall never be moved.' By your favor, O Lord, you had established me as a strong mountain; you hid your face; I was dismayed. To you, O Lord, I cried, and to teh Lord I made supplication: 'What profit is there in my death, if I go down to teh Pit? Will the dust praise you? Will it tell of your faithfulness? Hear, O Lord, and be gracious to me! O Lord, be my helper!' You have turned my mourning into dancing; you have taken off my sackcloth and clothed me with joy, so that my soul may praise you and not be silent. O Lord my God, I will give thanks to you forever. --Psalm 30 (NRSV)

Amazing things happening right now:

--The Project Transformation summer interns arrived in Charlottesville this week, bringing passion and wisdom and grace to our community. Last night we had a wonderful communion service in the Foundation dining room, led by Deborah and Jessie and Alex and Andrew and so many other visionary ministers, and now they're beginning the work that will make this summer a truly transforming experience for themselves, for the children they serve, and for the world around us.

--Yesterday I purchased 12 roundtrip tickets from Dulles to West Palm Beach for July 10-17. We've managed to raise a little over $4,000 so far, which allowed us to purchase the tickets and will hopefully carry us through the rest of our journey. So, even though so many details still need to be covered (transportation while we're there, meals in Florida, getting to D.C. for our 6am flight, planning the camps we will lead with underprivileged children in West Palm Beach, etc.), it looks like our youth mission trip will come together after all. We have a wonderful adult leadership team (2 men and 2 women from Hinton Avenue) and a great group of youth who will be participating in this transformative mission experience. We will be working with CROS (Christians Reaching Out to Society) Ministries in West Palm Beach, where we will lead a day camp for area children for two days, spend a couple days working at a Caring Kitchen hot meal program and at food pantry sites around the city, and glean oranges with the Society of Saint Andrew. And of course there will be plenty of time for relaxing on the beach and building a stronger community within our youth group. One girl's parents are so excited about her participation in this journey that they're sending her home early from their family vacation in Dallas, Texas so that she can meet us in Florida and join our team! Continued prayers are welcome and needed!

--The long tradition of Dwelling advocacy is continuing, as my brother Brian, who moved in with us a couple weeks ago (into my old bedroom downstairs, no less!) has now set up a new website, www.antidraft.org, in order to protest increasing congressional and administration chatter about reinstating a proscriptive draft for the US military. He's updating the site with elected officials' contact information and may even begin organizing rallies and demonstrations as the debate evolves.

There are so many other things going on that deserve more attention (April and I saw Shrek 2 last weekend and just loved it, I'm currently re-reading Rick Moody's poignant short story collection Demonology, my fantasy NASCAR team won the league's first 11-week segment a couple weeks ago and is now in first place after a couple weeks of action in segment two, and I'll be serving once again this week as a lay delegate from the Petersburg District to the Virginia Annual Conference of the United Methodist Church in Hampton), but the pressure of time demands that I get some real work (phone calling, youth group planning, lawn mowing, etc.) done on this Saturday afternoon, so suffice it to say that God is good and I am blessed.

Shalom!

When I think of 'The Presidency' (capital P very important), the image that immediately comes to my mind is that of President Reagan. I haven't yet decided whether this is a blessing or a curse. Certainly, it's not the Presidential image I would otherwise have chosen for myself. I likely would have gone for the bold liberation of Lincoln, the glamorous presence of Kennedy or the youthful idealism of Clinton. Nonetheless, when I was four and my cartoons were interrupted with news of the President it was always Reagan I saw addressing an audience or strolling across the White House Lawn, and these memories remain firmly ingrained in my mind.

While I disagree with practically all of his social (he wasn't exactly a champion of civil rights, after all), economic (largest budget deficits the world had ever seen plus enormous defense spending never turned out to be a recipe for peace with justice, and trickle down economics was little more than thinly-veiled pandering to the wealthiest of Americans), and diplomatic (Iran-Contra?) policies, I deeply admire his respect for the office (he never entered the Oval Office without a coat and tie on) and his ability, at the end of the day, to see humanity in all places (both the Soviet Union and his Democratic rivals). And while I concur with Meredith's assessment of the somewhat false "mourning" our nation is in at the moment, I have appreciated many of the stories of his public and private life which are being told in the media right now. The sports enthusiast in me, for instance, lept for joy upon learning that President Reagan actually went to the airport to welcome the Super Bowl XVII champion Washington Redskins back home. Hearing about the personalism, the humor, and the jelly beans that marked his administration ignites somehow a sense of preadolescent patriotism and continues to teach me just what it means to be an American. And the shocked looks on many conservatives' faces when they learn that Reagan is the only US President to have been divorced is simply priceless.

My favorite story from Ronald Reagan's life, however, has less to do with his political or public life and more to do with the grace and dignity with which he always held himself. After learning that he was beginning a terminal battle with Alzheimer's Disease, the President wrote a moving letter to the nation, informing them of his illness and, for all practical purposes, retiring from the national spotlight. More importantly, however, he placed himself and his own experience of this disease within the context of the millions of other Americans who have found themselves and their families in similar positions, and he expressed the hope that his own challenges would be part of a visionary "cure" for this debilitating condition.

The truth is that I could never dream of being the brilliant communicator that our nation knew in President Reagan. So may his own thoughtful, and prophetic, words to America also be this unapologetic liberal's tribute to the man who, perhaps more than anyone else, defined "conservative" for us all:

My Fellow Americans,

I have recently been told that I am one of the Americans who will be afflicted with Alzheimer's Disease.

Upon learning this news, Nancy & I had to decide whether as private citizens we would keep this a private matter or whether we would make this news known in a public way.

In the past Nancy suffered from breast cancer and I had my cancer surgeries. We found through our open disclosures we were able to raise public awareness. We were happy that as a result many more people underwent testing. They were treated in early stages and able to return to normal, healthy lives.

So now, we feel it is important to share it with you. In opening our hearts, we hope this might promote greater awareness of this condition. Perhaps it will encourage a clearer understanding of the individuals and families who are affected by it.

At the moment I feel just fine. I intend to live the remainder of the years God gives me on this earth doing the things I have always done. I will continue to share life's journey with my beloved Nancy and my family. I plan to enjoy the great outdoors and stay in touch with my friends and supporters.

Unfortunately, as Alzheimer's Disease progresses, the family often bears a heavy burden. I only wish there was some way I could spare Nancy from this painful experience. When the time comes I am confident that with your help she will face it with faith and courage.

In closing let me thank you, the American people for giving me the great honor of allowing me to serve as your President. When the Lord calls me home, whenever that may be I will face it with the greatest love for this country of ours and eternal optimism for its future.

I now begin the journey that will lead me into the sunset of my life. I know that for America there will always be a bright dawn ahead.

Thank you, my friends. May God always bless you.

Sincerely,
Ronald Reagan
(November 5, 1994)

This week, Andrew used a Best Buy gift certificate he'd received for his birthday to pick up the entire series (all 65 episodes) of Sports Night on DVD. Sports Night was Aaron Sorkin's brilliant and hilarious pre-The West Wing series which won three Emmys, but only lasted two seasons. So we've spent embarassing amounts of time the past couple nights watching episodes chronologically and gaining an increasing respect and love for the nuanced character development, bold social and political declarations, and energizing idealism that characterize the series. The writers are remarkably witty and leave us with countless quotable lines, but one episode in particular struck a chord with me and needs to be shared with the world.

In an episode entitled "The Six Southern Gentlemen of Tennessee Tech", six Western Tennessee football players, including their star tailback, walk off their team because they cannot play for a school which proudly displays the Confederate battle flag at every opportunity. The show's drama begins when Luther Saks, the station's owner who is himself an alumnus of Western Tennessee, demands that Isaac Jaffi, the show's black executive producer, run a segment southern gentlemen and the southern tradition in sports, in culture, and in history," all to be symbolized by the Confederate flag. Initially, Isaac is just too tired to fight this battle and has his writers put the piece together, but just before the 11pm show goes on live, he decides instead to give his own editorial commentary, which turns out to be amazingly poignant (and entire relevant for us today).

Below is the text of his commentary. Parts of it are specific to the details of this television program, but much of it resonates clearly with a much broader, more accessible, project:

"Exaudio, compario, colloquor. That's the Latin phrase that translates to listen, to learn, to speak. Those words are carved into the stone arches that form the entrance to the undergraduate library at Tennessee Western University. This afternoon, an extraordinary young man named Roland Shepherd made what had to have been an excruciating decision. He said he wasn't playing football under a Confederate flag. Six of his teammates then chose not to let Shepherd stand alone, and I choose to join them at this moment. In the history of the South, there is much to celebrate, and that flag is a desecration of all of it. It's a banner of hatred and separatism. it' s a banner of ignorance and violence and a war that pitted brother against brother, and to ask young black men and women, young Jewish men and women, Asians, Native Americans, to ask Americans to walk beneath its shadow is a humiliation of irreducible proportions, and we all know it. Tennessee Western has produced some outstanding alumni in the last hundred years, people of wisdom and vision, strength and compassion. One of them is Luther Saks. Luther Saks owns Continental Corp., which owns the Continental Sports Channel, which you're watching right now. Luther Saks is a generous alumni contributor to Tennessee Western, with a considerable influence over its chancelor, Davis Blake, and its board of trustees. Luther, you've got a phone call to make. You've got to call Chancelor Blake and tell him to take down that flag, or he can stop looking for your checks in the mail. You've got to put these young men back in the classroom, and I mean pronto. These boys are gonna make you proud one day, Luther. I challenge you to do the right thing, not an unreasonable request to make of a man whose alma mater declares exaudio, compario, colloquor--to listen, to learn, to speak. In the meantime, God go with you, Roland Shepherd, and you six southern gentlemen of Tennessee. God's not done with any of you yet."

That bright, otherwise reasonable people can argue that flying the battle flag of the rebel slave south over our state capitals, at our universities, or on our ballparks is a matter of southern heritage rather than overt racism is simply unbelievable to me. The Southern Poverty Law Center reports that more than 500 extremist hate groups use the Confederate battle flag (NOT the official flag of the Confederate States of America, by the way, but rather the flag they used when going into battle against the USA), which they call "The Southern Cross" as emblems for their racist, exclusivist causes. Should this alone not be enough to make us put away the flag and begin imagining new images of the American South (or reclaiming old ones)?

Perhaps this is preaching to the choir, though. Your thoughts and insight are welcome. Shalom.