Mandated Reporter

When I was in parish ministry I lived with the mantle of mandated reporting. Meaning that I heard personal confessions, personal stories, personal problems and the people who talked to me had the assurance that it stayed exactly that. Personal. Unless, of course, their personal "whatever" involved harm to a child, harm to themselves, harm to another. Then I was a mandated reporter. I had to report to authorities, emergency services, etc. the harm or violation.

Now I live with what is called "unconditional confidentiality." That means that personal stays personal...no matter what. I am not a mandated reporter anymore. I am a keeper of secrets.

That's hard to live under, to be completely honest. And I am thankful that I don't have to keep any really ugly secrets, or that I've had to convince anyone to turn themselves in.

I carry with me every single day the burdens that others have shared with me. It's hard; I'm not going to lie. I see them in the market, at the movies, in the coffee shop, and I know exactly what's going on in their lives. We smile our polite smiles, say our polite greetings, and move on like we've never really shared anything as personal as what I know.

You might think it's heavy to bear, but it's a beautiful thing really. I see individuals I've counseled in times of hopelessness and I get to pray for them as we pass on the street. I see couples I've counseled when their marriage was on rocks (some of them it still is) and I get to pray for them while we buy our groceries. My "mandated reporting" has changed from the authorities to the Authority.

It's a beautiful thing to get on the inside of people's lives. Sometimes I wish I could invite others to pray with me for a person, or that I could connect this person with that person because they share similar pain and carry similar baggage, but I can't. All I can do is trust that the Healer knows my requests and moves in subtle ways to mend broken lives.

The Pilgrimm's Fun Casual Joint

I hope you'll allow me a moment or two of confession.

I have a terrible sarcastic streak running through me (that's the first confession). It seems to be a not so alluring trait for a "person of the cloth" to possess, but, there it is.

Case in point. My wife and I were driving up to a wonderful pub and bistro the other night and we pass by this community church that had, printed on their sign, right there for God and everybody to see it, the following phrase: "A Pretty Good Church."

I get what they are trying to say. "We're a pretty good church! Come give us a try." "He likes it! Hey, Mikey!" (I'm sorry there it is again...it's a good thing I only admitted to being on the way to perfection rather than having arrived.)

But what I couldn't help think as we passed by this "pretty good church" was that we've come to settle for mediocrity. As long as we can put out a pretty good movie, or produce some pretty good food, or have a pretty good single or two on our new album-CD-whatever...then people will be satisfied. So by calling ourselves a "pretty good church" we don't set anyone's expectations too high.

Nope. Sorry. I don't want pretty good. I want damn good. We're a damn good church! That's the place I want to be.

I want to be in a place where people believe that the life of following Jesus is demanding. That we aren't just given a "get out of hell free card" but that we're invited to a lifetime of loving God, loving people and working the kinks out of the world. And we are willing charge into the fray because doing that makes us feel ALIVE!

I want to be in a place that isn't afraid of saying, "This thing we do, you know, following Jesus...it's like nothing you've ever done. You can't do it without him. You need to be ready to unlearn everything you think you know and sit at his feet every single day. Some days that will mean praying--and by praying I don't mean 'thank you God for our food' (although that's a good place to start); I mean active prayer in the trenches, 'God give me strength to serve and to the courage to do your will!'--and some days sitting at his feet will mean washing feet or feeding the hungry or sitting with the lonely or singing your heart out or meditating on The Message." But everyday you offer freely yourself to God and you know in your heart of hearts that it's only grace that saves you but your work your butt off like every person you see is Jesus himself.

I want to be in a place that says, "We're a damn good church full of damn good Christians serving a damn good God! And we do it every damn day!"

Or...

I want to be at a place like the restaurant just up the road from the "pretty good church" that calls itself "a fun, casual joint."

Yeah, that's my style right there, too. "A fun, casual joint." (Even though it was a Friday night, guess which parking lot was full?)

But then again, what do I know? I curse, I drink beer called "Arrogant Bastard," (that's a fun one to order, too, "I'd like an imperial pint of Arrogant Bastard, please." Did he just say Arrogant Bastard and please in the same sentence?) and I listen to Janis Joplin and the Grateful Dead (both cranked up really, really loud.)

I'll tell you what I know. I know that God is love. And I know that no matter how hard I work day after day after day that the work I do doesn't save me, it's God's love that rescues me. And trust me...this sarcastic, imperfect, tie dyed, bone-shakin', AB swillin' fool needs a lot of rescuing. I also know that mediocrity doesn't cut it when it comes to following Jesus.

Musings from Natural Bridge Pt. 1

Normally I'm not thrilled about 7:00 a.m. Friends are frequently accusing me of being a "morning person" because I am at the local branch of the YMCA by 7:30 most days. But they don't understand that I am there early because I won't be there later. I'm not there early because I like mornings. I don't. I'm not bubbly at 7:30 a.m. I'm not bubbly period. But bubbly is without a doubt not the adjective I would use for myself at 7:30 a.m.

Today I woke up at 7:00 a.m. but I'm very much okay with that. My family is on vacation at Natural Bridge State Park in Eastern Kentucky. While I type this there is a squirrel walking the rail of my balcony, not six feet away from me. There is a creek burbling somewhere below. All of the trees have made this amazing mountain mist. I hear six or seven different bird songs. There is a cup of coffee (that I just finished) close by. Everything is good.

It is moments like this that help me understand how God could look at the whole of creation and call it "good." I don't always see that in my usual stomping grounds where there is perpetual construction and consistent reduction of green space in favor of new development. But here, conserved for a few days of Sabbath, I see the goodness. And I can even appreciate it at 7:00 a.m.

"The Health Care Gamble" or "A Nickel versus Twenty Grand"

I find myself in a quandary:

As the West Ohio Conference of the United Methodist Church prepares to gather next week, I'm doing my homework on the recommendations.

On one hand we have Recommendation #1 a resolution on health care. Lines 39 and following state "1.4 million Ohioans have no health insurance and 62% of Ohioans had some experience with being uninsured...Millions more with health coverage are under-insured or reluctant to use their coverage because of high co-payments, deductibles and other cost sharing requirements." This resolution calls us to call upon legislators (state, local, even as high as the UN) to work for health care reform and coverage.

Some of those 1.4 million Ohioans are in my congregation and contribute to the payment of my health insurance premiums. I find myself falling into the millions who are reluctant to use that coverage paid for by the uninsured or under insured because my deductibles are high.

I earnestly believe that we need to do something about health care coverage in our nation. (I don't have any problem when it comes to the intent of this resolution.)

On the other hand there is recommendation #2 a resolution that asks United Methodists to continue saying "No Casinos in Ohio!" Lines 30 and 31 state: "WHEREAS a Mississippi State University study found that in counties with casinos, those earning less than $10,000 per year lost 10% of the family income to casinos..."

I don't gamble personally. I have better things to do with my money. I also recognize, though, that many people are addicted to gambling. However, I don't demonize people who like to go to Argosy or any other place. I don't demonize folks that buy the occasional lottery ticket either.

Here's where I experience tension between these two recommendations: Nowhere in our recommendations is there a mention of asking our conference folks to use their group bargaining power to lower what our congregations are paying for their pastors' health insurance. 2009 rates for pastors' health insurance (family coverage) is $18,336 per year.

It just so happens that that is slightly more than 10% of our church's annual budget (see above statistic on gambling). I would expect that the 2010 rates will be higher than the 2009 rates, too, and as my congregation wheedles down it's budget because of the state of the economy, that means that health insurance coverage will most likely be MORE than 10% of our budget!

It just so happens that my family and I are blessed with health and rarely need to visit the doctor which means that when we do have a need for a visit we pay for most of the cost because of deductibles--which makes us reluctant to use our coverage (see above comment!)

Now, here's my quandary (if you haven't seen it already). We want to say no to casinos, our UM Social Principles state that "gambling is a menace to society, deadly to the best interests of moral, social, economic and spiritual life" and yet we continue to ask our congregations to pay outrageous rates for our group insurance coverage--which is as much of a gamble, if not a more costly one, than a $1.00 lottery ticket or a few tries on a nickel slot.

Prayerfully discerning...

a sower went out to sow

I don't even know how to start...

I've been doing some voluntary outreach ministry with at risk youth and over the last month I've been working with one youth who self-injures (there are lots of details I cannot disclose, suffice it to say that there are so many issues in play here that I am only one part of the puzzle's attempted solution.) I'll call her "Sue."

Last week she had a break down, I got a phone call on our scheduled meeting day saying that she had a huge fight with her mom (which may or may not have gotten physical, I don't know) and that her mom was sending her back to hospital. (which is both good and bad for this particular youth, she needs medication and her parents, for whatever reason, are denying it to her...like I said, lots of issues).

I traded texts with her for quite a while that night and the next morning I get a phone call from her mom telling me that she was calling because Sue wanted her to call me. Mom told me what hospital she was in and that I'd be added to the list of "approved visitors." That was Friday.

today is Tuesday and I'm still not on the list. The only contact I have with the mother is through Sue's cell phone and I'm not getting any response.

So I've been sending notes for the past two days to the hospital, to at least let Sue know that I'm thinking about her and haven't forgotten her.

It's frustrating. This is the point of the whole note. I'm frustrated. I spent part of my Sabbath talking to this girl's mother, specifically asking if she was okay with me going to see Sue--if I had been told no, I would have accepted that, not happily, but at least I would have known how mom felt. But I wasn't told no I was told yes and that I'd be added to the list and now my hands are tied. The hospital won't even let me talk to Sue on the phone; won't call Mom on my behalf. I'm frustrated. I want to say something in my notes to Sue, but I'm afraid of being a source of anxiety or distress when what she really needs is healing.

So please, pray for "Sue" for me. Pray for the family and pray that I can find peace in all of this, and that ultimately God's will be done--even if it means I'm stuck in the distance with no idea at all of what's going on. (sometimes being trusted with sowing seeds and not knowing how they sprout is the hardest thing of all...)

Holy Mounds of Snow, Batman!

What a kooky week! Four days with the kids at home, several inches of snow and some ice thrown in to boot! Makes me think of the Batman TV show from wayback when Robin would bust out a "Holy mounds of snow, Batman!"

But more than just the snow, there's been other bits of craziness that's turned my heart to deep, seeking prayer (I can't share any more about the craziness, but rest assured life in the Dawson house is as "normal" as it can be; we're fine, I'm fine, "everything is fine here, thank you. how are you?"). As I look at and feel the pain of others around me, I remember the prayers of the psalmists throughout the ages who have asked, "How long, O Lord? How Long?" and I understand why Paul says that there are times when the Spirit intercedes with sighs too deep for words.

Mother Teresa says that love sweeps the stains from the streets and lanes, and because it can, it must. And as I reflect on her life and ministry, I see a woman so devoted to Christ that she would serve sacrificially even in those times when she felt spiritually numb. (BTW this is not a way of saying that I feel this way, just a reflection on her own devotion knowing all of the stains she saw in her life.) She gives me hope that we can continue to sow seeds every day no matter what.

Sometimes being trusted to simply sow seeds can be a very frustrating task, especially when you yearn to see sprouts in specific places. And yet all I/we can do is continue to demonstrate Christ's love to them and pray for the Holy Spirit to water the seeds that we leave.

On a more positive note: I managed to get all of my writing done for the board of ordained ministry, so now I just wait for my interview with the board. it's a relief to be past the writing; the waiting I'll deal with and thinking (and re-thinking and second-thinking) is something I'm trying to avoid.

Veni, Sancte Spiritus!

(Come, Holy Spirit! )

praying mantis

Praying mantis on my rear window
buffeted by the wind
hunkers down, holds on
prostrate in the gale
hands never stop praying.

Praying mantis on my rear window
looks at me when car stops
"you gave it your best
I'm still here"
hands never stop praying.