Beneath the surface

Decisions were made.

Betrayal came.

Insults were hurled.

Humiliation took place.

Loneliness rose.

Yesterday as the people called United Methodist made decisions they emulated decisions that the chief priest and elders made so long ago. The strongest voice was one that had been looking for a way to persecute.  A small group sought to silence the very one with whom they feared. This voice sought to silence the one/s that have always been willing to heal others that had been cast outside the city gates. They sought to humiliate and question the one/s that noticed the unnoticeable in the tree, the one/s willing to call the unnoticeable down out of their isolation to share a meal around the table. A contingency of leaders sought to question the one/s who have freely walked into the world touching those that others cast away.  Decisions seemed to be made long before our leaders gathered in St.Louis.  

As the insults were hurled, as the questions reigned down and as the lives, our  LGBTQI+  community was picked apart; darkness fell.  Every single one of us who have family members, or have the privilege of shepherding and have gained the trust of those who are part of the LGBTQI+ community found  ourselves on the sidelines in absolute horror for what was transpiring.  We cried out in disbelief as our beloved friends and family were cast away.  

I felt the pains of what must have taken place on Good Friday as Jesus's closest friends and his family endured him coming through the city with shouts and accusations coming from every corner of the gathered crowd. The loss of words as they found themselves longing to take away Jesus pain as the day wore on.  Late that afternoon as Jesus took his final breath, there was a ripping, a  moaning that echoed throughout the land.   

There was a moaning that echoed throughout our land yesterday.

There was a  moaning that silenced our words.

There was a moaning that ripped the core of our beings yesterday leaving us hopeless.   

There was a moaning.

In the midst of the darkness that fell on that Friday night, something beyond comprehension was being woven together. It was not something that could be seen.   It was not a weaving that could be explained, but there was a knitting process  that would lead to something miraculous.  Resurrection was coming....it had not yet come but it was coming.

In the pain, God was working.

In the tears, God was working.

In the darkest, unanswered questions God was working.

This tricky, beautiful thing called resurrection is being woven for us. 

I cannot feel it today. 
I cannot see it today. 

I am still in pain. I am still in disbelief. I am still shattered. I am still sick to my stomach.  I am seeking my center because darkness and disbelief have pervaded my soul. I  am embarrassed at what selective leadership has reigned down upon our beloved UMC.   I like those who loved Jesus most want to hide behind closed doors. 

In this darkness, deep beneath the surface, in a place that I  cannot yet claim I believe God is doing something marvelous and miraculous on our behalf. On behalf of the very ones who were persecuted and cast aside yesterday.  I  cannot feel it today. I cannot see it today but one day....one day when I least expect it resurrection; a new beginning will reveal itself in a way that I  least expect it.  

May we all hold on to one another so that when that day comes we will recognize it along the road!