Archive for March, 2011

Dear Holy Covenant,

The Staff Parish Relations Committee at Holy Covenant is pleased to announce that the Bishop and Cabinet of the Northern Illinois Conference have appointed the Rev. Matthew Johnson to serve as our new pastor starting July 1, 2011. SPRC and Lay Leaders had a chance to meet with Pastor Matthew and his wife Emily this past Saturday and we were all impressed with his approach to preaching, mission work, and commitment to social justice. We look forward to the congregation welcoming our new pastor and his family in July. Please join us on Sunday at 12:30 to learn more about our pastoral transition process. To learn more about our new pastor read his information below and check out his blog, www.unfilteredwesleyan.com.

Rev. Matthew Johnson
Matthew Johnson is an ordained elder and is currently under appointment at The United Methodist Church of Geneva where he has served as associate pastor since 2007. While at UMCG, he has been a lead researcher in an experiment to see if a traditional congregation can live with and love a community of non-traditional Christians. He was responsible for the launching literature, film and pub groups as expressions of this experiment. He has also taken the responsibility of being a voice for the voiceless and an advocate for the marginalized in the Fox Valley. This has led to advocacy for the homeless, underemployed and shadow populations which has grown into lay-led programs like meal ministries and a coalition for transportation equity.

In 2003, Johnson left his publishing job to enroll at University of Dubuque Theological Seminary. He was the pastor of two rural congregations northeast of Rockford while at UDTS. And, while ordained ministry may technically be his second career, it has always been his first calling. From his initial interest in political action to his work as a community journalist and a not-for-profit leader, Johnson has always sought to point to the greater truth, build meaningful relationships and advocate for justice.

He believes that the canon of Christian faith rings true in all of creation and is just as likely to point to evidence of God’s grace in literature, art, film, television and social networking as he is scripture. For him, liturgy isn’t a script for worship but rather the holy interaction we all share in being God’s children. He’s a storyteller preacher, but thinks the best proclamation is persistent living and relationship.

Johnson is excited to become the leader of a congregation that has such a great history of advocacy for those who the church and world has traditionally disenfranchised, specifically the LGBT community. “I am overjoyed and humbled to practice ministry in a place where there are no limits on grace, and be a part of a community that practices openness and welcome to all people in the way I believe Jesus does,” he said.

Johnson will celebrate 12 years of marriage to his wife, Emily, this June. Together, they have a precocious four-year-old daughter, Liberty. For fun, he enjoys all things bicycle and tweaking the controls on circuit-bent instruments while pretending he’s Trent Reznor.

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by Mary Colleran

The other day my alarm went off and I was exhausted. I’d been up late the night before dealing with various life issues and I was in no mood to get my early morning walk on. So I reset the alarm and went back to sleep. I felt guilty for a minute but then banished that feeling because I really don’t want guilt to have any part of my spirituality. Been there, done that. It seemed silly to force myself out of bed just to prove a point. But was I robbing myself of something wonderful that would happen if I went for a prayer walk? Maybe. But then I wouldn’t have had that dream about a coworker winning the Guinness Book of World Records for knitting the world’s biggest blanket. So I woke up feeling a-okay about my decision. After all, this is a spiritual practice not a spiritual destination. I’m figuring this out as I go.

This little episode made me think about how I make up my own rules for Lent and I pretty much make up my own rules for religion and spirituality in general. There are probably a lot of pros and cons to this one, but I feel okay about it right now. There have been times when it somehow comes up that I was raised Catholic, or went to a Jesuit college, or did the Jesuit Volunteer Corps, or now regularly go to a Methodist Church and people will ask a question like “YOU? You go to church?!” Or there’s a long tirade about how awful the Catholic Church is, and then a silence that seems to say, “Well…prove me wrong.” I never bother to get into it much. I kind of have the thought: if this person can’t wrap their mind around whoever they thought I was with this new person they just discovered that actually goes to Church and believes in God…well that’s up to them. Nothing I say in the next three minutes is going to change that. I’ll just be me and they can adjust to it or not. It seems that the fact that I go to church makes some people think they’ve got my spiritual beliefs all figured out. Hilarious, since I have no clue what I actually believe, so if they know, they should clue me in.

I know I make these kinds of judgments about people all the time, based on a variety of facts or assumptions or general vibes. So, I’m really not one to talk. But I will anyway.

In these moments, a part of me gets infuriated. For me, Christianity is my history and tradition and my faith in a God who loves everyone is what inspires me to live the best life possible and work for positive social change. Like anything, many churches of many denominations are replete with inadequacies and failures, but I believe that at its core, the message (and the core message of most if not all religions) is inclusive and welcoming and has the potential to bring about a more peaceful world. The message as I like to see it is that we should all do our best to live life with purpose and use the gifts we’re given to create a better world. Sure, people have done awful things in the name of religion but that’s not the religion’s fault. Christianity was trying to spread love and good news and people misinterpreted all kinds of stuff and really messed some things up. There’s plenty of great people trying to get all this on the right track.

What was my point? Oh yes. Making up my own rules. In trying to figure out Christianity’s place in my life, I’ve definitely strayed from some of the things I was taught to believe in growing up. You want to know what I believe about the Eucharist? I’ll tell ya. I HAVE NO CLUE. I’ve given that a whole lotta thought and I’m still not sure. Courage to question, friends! I question the heck outta that situation. But whatever it is I believe, I love the ritual and it brings me peace and makes me happy.

And I think that sums up my experience with Holy Covenant, and the community here, and the services, and the bazillion ways we all connect, and this here Lenten blog. It brings me peace and makes me happy.

Sermon, Third Sunday in Lent
March 27, 2011
Holy Covenant UMC
Rev. Kate Hurst Floyd

John 4:5-42

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A woman saw God! Encountered the Messiah at the well. Had a personal experience with Jesus.
She couldn’t help but shout it from the rooftops. If she had a Facebook page, she would have updated it immediately. Called the local news. Invite a reality TV crew to come film what would be a hit: The Savior (surely that would get higher ratings than the Bachelor).

She saw God!

The problem, though, was that she wasn’t sure anybody would believe her.

After all, people tended to keep their distance. She was tired of the dirty looks and whispering women as she passed by. Polite hellos punctuated by sneering laughter. It’s why she changed her routine and went to the well when nobody else would be there. How she missed those cool mornings before the sun rose, meditative walks to the water. But that’s when all the other women filled up their buckets, so she decided to go in the hottest part of the day, to avoid interaction with others.

People presumed she had done something wrong, but they didn’t understand her story. She’d had five husbands because her first one was abusive and two of them died. And she had to keep getting married because as a woman in this society, she was economically dependent on living with men. The man she was living with now wasn’t her husband because of an ancient law about being with the brother of her deceased husband to try and produce a child. She was just following the law, though there was still stigma.

She tried her hardest to avoid people, which wasn’t so hard, because they tried even harder to avoid her. So imagine her surprise when she encounters a man at the well, choosing to be there at the hottest part of the day. A man, choosing to talk to a woman, which was culturally taboo, unless they were related. Which they definitely weren’t. After all, she was a Samaritan and he was a Jew—Jews believed Samaritans were unclean. This had the makings of a completely scandalous encounter. (more…)

by Adam Bogucki

What a tough week for compassion. I was so busy; I had little to no patience for dealing with people. I have learned compassion takes patience. I had originally considered taking on simplicity as a spiritual practice for Lent. However, I felt that would be setting my self up for failure. I like to do everything. I like being busy. I like being around as many different people as possible.

I do still feel that God is teaching me little lessons in compassion, even if I am having a hard time putting it into practice. Did you happen to see the news story about the little girl in Florida with a peanut allergy? There is a petition by some of her schoolmates and their parents to have her kicked out of school because they have had to change their lives too much to accommodate her needs. I was appalled when I watched it on CNN. And then I stopped and thought, “How often am I those parents?” I mean, often times it is easier for me to think, “why should I put myself out when they are the ones that are different; they are the ones that have problems, not me.”

And then there was the story about the Barefoot Contessa and the Make a Wish Foundation. It seems that the media and those watching the news stories took a simple misunderstanding and blew it way out of proportion. A little boy made his wish through the foundation to cook with the Contessa. Her people said no. All of the sudden, it has become a case of a star too big for the little people to help a dying little boy. In truth, he isn’t dying, and is in fact in remission, and she had no idea about the request. His family has asked people to step back and look at the situation. They are upset because they have mislabeled their little boy as “on his death bed” when he is pretty healthy. And people have vilified the Barefoot Contessa because her people decided she shouldn’t do this. It makes me think, how uncompassionate am I when I jump to conclusions or believe everything that I hear with no evidence? When I read this story, my first thought was, how ridiculous that the media took this and made it into such a huge issue. Then I remembered, I am the one that buys everything the media tells me.

Compassion has many forms. I have donated too much money this Lent, and I finally had to step back and think to myself, ok, what other forms can I practice? I would like to really practice patience this week. To have patience when people are different from me or when people have needs that are different from my own. Patience when I hear something that makes me cringe, because maybe I don’t know the whole story.

Giving up alcohol, caffeine, and nicotine has been so much easier than taking on compassion. What does that say about me?

After growing up in Seattle, Hannah Holtgeerts took a nine month detour to Costa Rica before coming to DePaul University. There she taught math and computer skills in a slum outside the capital to at-risk young women and quickly realized she was there to learn far more than she could teach. Here are some of the life lessons she now carries with her:

• The bigger your world is, the smaller your problems are.
• It’s possible to be alone without being lonely.
• Cynicism can be just as damaging as ignorance.
• If you don’t know what something is, don’t try it in a milkshake.
• We must stop worrying what other people think of us and instead focus on what we think of other people.

Along the way, Hannah took photographs and collected video of her students, their children, and the community that enveloped her in tangible grace. Come by the Holy Covenant gallery on Saturday, April 2nd from 7 – 9 pm for the opening display of her work which will be up for the rest of the month.

Want to see more? Check out her blog(s):
http://hhcreates.tumblr.com/
http://costaricanhannah.blogspot.com/
http://ilovemylifebecause.blogspot.com/

by Georgette Kelly

Last week, my Sabbath took me on a long walk. I meandered, enjoying the sunlight. I found myself in the Brown Elephant Resale Shop.

As if illuminated with a special light, a blue and white ceramic teapot appeared on a shelf in front of me. Its bright geometric pattern entranced me. I felt compelled to touch it, turn it over in my hands. I carried it to the register, thinking, “Why do I need a teapot? I have never owned a teapot.”

I drink tea out of plastic cylinders while commuting. I drink tea brewed from caffeinated powder. I drink tea while a little paper tag flaps at the end of thin twine that sticks to my lips. None of this is really appealing. It is merely consumption and movement.

Upon reflection, maybe I can learn something from the teapot…

I carried it home and boiled some water. I peeled off the price tag, washed, and dried the teapot. I dug out some loose-leaf tea from the back of a cabinet. I listened to the jingle of the dry leaves falling into the hollow ceramic. I felt the steam rise up as I poured in the water. I watched it brewing, and I thought that very few things are permanent in my life.

I sat down and drank the tea, still watching the teapot. This fragile object somehow seemed permanent—it had been owned by other people who had cared for it. It could break easily, unlike my durable plastic travel mugs. But people had respected it, conserved it, passed it on. They had respected the time that this teapot could consecrate, instead of dashing out the door, cup in hand. You can rush off to work, but you cannot rush brewing tea. It takes its time.

The teapot was transformed into a small luxury, a permanent object in my Tupperware-filled kitchen, a reminder that time for brewing is sacred. Time for reflection is sacred.

In trying to be frugal, I have often denied myself small luxuries. I have denied myself time that is sacred. This teapot was not expensive—but it was “unnecessary.” On another day, a day that was not Sabbath, I might have decided not to buy it because I did not “need” it.

In my mind, being frugal is a sister of working hard. I work hard. I am frugal. I allow these traits to define me. They are necessary, yes. They are virtuous, yes. But they define me. I define myself with them.

What if something more permanent defined me? What if I defined myself with something more permanent?

What if God defined me? What if I defined myself with God?

by Maria Cupp

“For it has been granted to you on behalf of Christ not only to believe in him, but also to suffer for him.“ Philippians 1:29

I gave up two things for Lent: fried foods and the judgment of others. Just last week I was talking about how much easier it was to give up fried food because choosing to eat fried food takes deliberate action and deliberate action is easier to control than the unconscious action of judging another. I forgot to take into consideration one very important thing though, while discussing how easy it has been for me to avoid fried food.

I’m an emotional eater.

Food brings me comfort. It brings me joy. It makes things better. I recognize that being an emotional eater isn’t different from other forms of self-medication. The only discrepancy is that my drug of choice is food. Just like with pills or alcohol, although the relief may be euphoric, it is temporary. And in the long run…it’s just not worth it.

Giving up fried food was easy when I wasn’t challenged. For some time now I’ve been working on acknowledging and understanding the triggers on my emotional eating so that I can better handle it. This week though, when I was faced with stress, with uncertainty and with sadness? Then I found I had no willpower. I easily rationalized that God would understand. I figured I could make an exception for my hurt, for my exhaustion and for my fear. So I took the hit, I swallowed the pill, I ate the chicken tenders. And you know what? They didn’t even taste good. I didn’t enjoy them. They didn’t make me feel better. Oh, don’t get me wrong, I didn’t stop eating them…though I did make a mental note and thought “Hmm, maybe that wasn’t worth it.”

But it wasn’t until 36 hours later, that I had an epiphany. The purpose of sacrifice during Lent is to become closer to God and to imitate the great sacrifice he made for us. While I was busy justifying my desire to drown my sorrows in breaded and fried pieces of chicken, dipped in barbeque sauce, I never once thought about what my decision really meant: Instead of embracing my sacrifice and honoring God, I turned to food. I held God’s love at arm’s length and instead turned to my old familiar friend. I took the easy way out.

What is the value of success if it comes easily? As Andrew Carnegie (and my mom) said, “Anything in life worth having is worth working for.” So it defeats the purpose, I think, to give myself an instant pass because I’m having a rough (really, really rough) week. It is during our most difficult weeks that our sacrifice means the most. If the purpose of choosing what we give up for Lent is to try to figure out what is the easiest, we’re doing something wrong. We’re missing the point. We wouldn’t use the word “sacrifice” to describe our actions if it were meant to be simple. Jesus died for us! I don’t imagine he thought “Hmm, I’m pretty tired today. I think I’ll pass on giving up my life for my people.”

Blogging for Lent has really made me take a look at my thoughts and beliefs and my actions. It’s made me question what I do for God and what God does for me. I love this self-challenge. It is this practice that has helped me realize that God means more to me than a three piece chicken strip meal from Popeye’s. So the next time my emotions are screaming for fried food and the car starts to veer towards the drive thru window, I’m going to remember that really, in the whole be scheme of things, sacrificing french fries in honor of the suffering Jesus did for us is really no big deal. Besides, I’m pretty confident that spending a few minutes with God will make me feel much better than any fried food ever can.

by Teddy Jay

I’ve been reading the submissions by the other bloggers. At first I really thought to myself, “this will be easy!” I mean it’s not like I have to give up caffeine and be compassionate at the same time. If I were to do that I’d have to only count interactions past 10am, as I can’t even tie my shoes without coffee. So the practice of centering myself, praying and talking to God seems like a piece of cake compared to that. So why is it I can barely find the time?

I started the week by doing some meditation at Lake Michigan again. Side note: Can we get some warmer weather please? I’ve been trying to read a little bit of the bible as I attempt to pray or meditate and center myself. While watching the sunrise, I read the story of the Samaritan woman at the well (John 4: 1-42). It’s a favorite of mine. I’m sure you know the story but in essence, it’s a story about a woman who goes to a well to draw some water and gets more than she ever bargained for. This poor woman, downtrodden and feeling isolated, comes to the well hoping to avoid the scornful judgment of the other people in town on her life. Instead of other people, she meets Jesus. Can you imagine? Here she is just trying to draw some water from a well and then some guy starts talking to her about the living water. Some guy indeed. I love her response when she says, “Sir, you have no bucket, and the well is deep. Where do you get that living water?” As if she was saying, “listen buddy, I don’t have the time for this! I’m thirsty and I need to get some water.” I can’t say I blame her really. God speaks to me often and often I don’t make the time to listen. But Jesus proceeds to tell her things about herself that some traveling man wouldn’t know. She eventually realizes that he is indeed the Messiah and goes forth to spread the good news. And that she does. Others begin believing because of her testimony that the Messiah had come and refreshed her life with the living water.

Whoa. I bet the woman didn’t think that’s what her day would look like when she woke up that morning! How many times have you met Jesus and received more than you expected? More than you were ready for? How many times has God met you at at time in your life when you can’t imagine feeling very worthy of that love and grace? I know it’s pretty often for me. There are so many times when I’ve felt completely empty and alone. I often feel like that Samaritan woman; just trying to get on with my day and nothing more. It’s those days when I just want to shrug and say to Jesus, “Well fine. You go and fetch me this living water that you speak of so that I don’t have to come to this stupid well again.” But I know he wants more for me. He wants more from me. Jesus is saying to us, “I know what lies heavy on your heart, I do. But first come and drink from the well that will never run dry.”

But it doesn’t stop there does it? He shares this with us not just so that we can go hang out by a well all day but so that we may go forth with the good news. This water will revive us and that is something we need to share! That’s sometimes the hard part; accepting the idea that God wants certain things for us and in turn making sure others know it too.

I got up as the sun rose over the chilly waters of Lake Michigan and went searching for a well. Boy, I’m thirsty.

Sunday, March 20, 2011
Holy Covenant UMC
Rebecca Anderson, preaching

John 3:1-17

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Friends in Holy Covenant,

This week, I filled and finished yet another of the big black sketchbooks I use as a journal. I’ve kept a journal my whole life but when I started Divinity School, my writing slowed wayyy down (I blame the homework). So my book starts all the way back in 2007, right before I moved to Chicago 3 ½ years ago, when I was pretty sure life here would be just awful, and lonely! Instead, I discovered and made a home, in a water-bug infested apartment, in a new city, in a challenging institution, and finally, at Holy Covenant.

Near the beginning of the book, I recapped my first quarter of seminary including this fragment, “Attending Holy Covenant and loving it.” And I closed the book by describing last Sunday night’s worship service, saying that at HC I’ve had the opportunity to do what God was telling me to do when I left Boston: extend the welcome that I experienced at my home church to others and let them know that there is a place for everyone at God’s table.

Flipping through my journal can be gratifying, surprising, and sometimes sad. I read entries about people with whom I’m no longer in relationship, remember and re-live some painful conversations and decisions. I can see the arc of who and how I’m becoming. As usual, it makes me wonder what’s next and where – and who – I’ll be when I finish the next book.

Last week, our office administrator Ellen Willett posted many photos of us (taken by Carrie Devries!) to Facebook and I confess I spent more than a little time looking at and tagging them. There are plenty of shots of people who’ve moved away, people we still miss, but these photos capture who we are and who we’ve been. And like my journal, they make me wonder what’s next for us as a congregation.

I’m so glad to be with you here and now, in this chapter of our communal life. Come back to church next Sunday; come to Dignity Diner on Tuesdays; stop in at Women’s Group; pray together at the retreat on April 2nd and keep filling the pages of our book.

Thanks for who you are and who you’ve made me,

Rebecca Anderson
Minister of Spiritual Formation

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