revtlmack

To those who responded to my Facebook post on Tuesday:

First of all, thank you for your kind responses.  I, especially, thank those who thanked me for some small role that I may have had in your spiritual journey.  I can only say two things: I am profoundly humbled by your comments and ALL the Glory goes to God.

Second, this is not about me.  My personal position in the church as a Pastor is secure, even if it is “less than equal.” For the time being, I can work with this.  The truth of the matter is that if the clergy and laywomen (and those who fully embrace our status as true equals) left this denomination, there would not be many folks left.

My particular concern is about a denomination, to which I have been faithful and for whom I have lovingly served, proceeding down a path which is increasingly unsettling…polarized…unhealthy…and, not representative of the best of who we are called to be as Christians and Wesley’s followers… based primarily, I believe, on some kind of irrational fear…

Lord, have mercy….

Friends have commented that “many vocations and workplaces” are places of exclusion and discrimination.  Sadly, I know this to be true.

Lord, have mercy…

The church of Jesus Christ, however, is called to overcome the world…to be better than the world…to transform the world…so that all places may be raised up to the higher standard of Christ and Christ’s church.

Lord, have mercy…

Thirty years ago, I entered the ministry, not of my own accord but from (what I still believe today) a true call to serve God through the church, the Body of Christ.  While flawed in my person and service, I have tried to faithfully live out that call with trust, integrity and compassion.

Thirty years ago, filled with the idealism of one who had seen the world change so much during my childhood and youth, I expected to be a part of the church overcoming the world… being better than the world… transforming the world…

Through the years, there have been glimpses of this.  Some of the “isms” (racism, sexism, anti-Semitism, homophobia, etc…) of the world seemed to be changing… Lately, however, many of the isms that I so much abhor seem to be increasing… these are more than political polarites… these are things of hate and evil that seem to be more present in the world and in the Body of Christ.Hope and faith have given way to fear and doubt.

Lord, have mercy…

While this particular vote may seem not important to many, I think it is very telling that in 2018, girls and women, lay and clergy are deemed less than equal by law in the United Methodist Church.

Let me also say, that gender inequality and exclusion is something that I have faced in every appointment in which I have served.  From “hey, little girl” to unwanted and unsolicited touches and inappropriate comments.  This (and much worse) is true for so many of my colleagues and friends.

Lord, have mercy….

An excerpt from the letter drafted to the People of the United Methodist Church from the Women Bishops of the United Methodist Church:

“We are deeply grieved that two of the amendments did not receive the necessary 2/3 aggregate vote of all the annual conferences in The United Methodist Church. Both are related to the right of girls, women, and other vulnerable groups to full access to a meaningful life.

Amendment #1, which added language that both men and women are made in the image of God and that we will confront and seek to eliminate discrimination against women and girls, received an aggregate vote of 66.5%, falling short of the necessary 2/3 majority by .2 % (less than 100 votes).

Amendment #2, which added this language, “… nor shall any member be denied access to an equal place in the life, worship, and governance of the Church because of race, color, gender, national origin, ability, age, marital status, or economic condition,” received an aggregate vote of 61.3%, again falling short of a 2/3 vote.”

Like Rachel weeping for her children, so we as episcopal leaders weep for our church. We weep for the physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual harm that is inflicted upon women and girls because of this action. We weep for those who are denied the ability to use their gifts to make a difference in the world. We also weep for those who are not protected from exclusion in the church because of race, color, gender, national origin, ability, age, marital status, or economic condition.”

Lord have mercy…

Many are dismissing this as the action of the Central Conference, largely made up of those from our denomination who live in Asia and Africa.  Granted, these are people of great cultural differences separated from the United States by many miles and lots of water. While there is truth in this, I find it more than disturbing that of the United Methodist in the United States, 26% voted “NO” to Amendment #1 and “31%” voted “NO” to Amendment #2. And, in the Louisiana Annual Conference, my home Conference, the votes were 24% and 30%, respectively.  WoW! Just WoW! And, for the record 66.5%, or 76% is not near good enough for me…

“Open hearts, open minds, open doors…”

Lord, have mercy…

As for me, for as long as I have breath, I will continue to stand for justice and mercy and righteousness.  There were vows made by my parents at my Baptism (1959), that I affirmed in my Confirmation (1969) and were consecrated in my Ordination(1989). These are the vows that I ask in every Baptism and Confirmation over which I preside.

The vows?

Do you renounce the spiritual forces of wickedness, reject the evil powers of this word and repent of your sin?

Do you accept the power that God gives you to resist evil, injustice and oppression in whatever forms they present themselves?

Do you confess Jesus Christ as your Savior, put your whole trust in his grace and promise to serve him as your Lord, in union with the church wish Christ has opened to people of all nations, races and ages?

I do. I do. I will.

…for as long as I have breath…

In God’s grace and service, I remain,

Rev. Tracy L. MacKenzie, Lead Pastor

Aldersgate United Methodist Church, Slidell, LA

There’s got to be a morning after…come on sing with me…

It is late morning after the storm… that is, twelve years ago, the morning after Hurrricane Rita crashed into my world…the sun is shining… the birds are singing…

Wait, there are no birds…

This is part of my recollection of what happened in the aftermath of Hurricane Rita crashing into my world…

I found it strange that after the storm, there were no birds… perhaps, they are smarter than we are and they evacuated…this is another eerie thing about hurricanes… nature abandons the storm…

In time, we would note other anomalies in nature… flowers and bedding plants became confused… we were in “fall” yet, shortly after the storm things seem to begin to bloom out of season…

If you are like me, I watched endless coverage of Hurricane Harvey coming ashore… three times…I prayed God’s mercy on those in the midst of the storm…and, I remembered…I remembered my own circumstances, twelve years ago…while there are commonalities, each experience and circumstance is unique…and, each has colored and flavored our lives since…some bitter…some sweet…

For example, I remember the shock and horror of the tree that crashed through the roof of my house…

…and, I remember God placing God’s hand on me, shortly thereafter, and assuring me that “All shall be well…”

There are many more examples, I imagine that you have your own…just like the notion that there were no birds singing and flowers bloomed out of season.

Has anyone ever given you a Bible verse? You know what I mean…there you are in the middle of something called “life” and a friend says, “I have a Bible verse for you…”

This happened to me…long before I became a “preacher,” a friend “gave/shared” a Bible verse to/with me during a difficult time in my life. Now, let me clarify, whatever the difficulty of that time, there would be far more difficult times ahead.

This particular Bible verse wasn’t in the Book of Job, a book I would come to know and hold very close to my heart; nor, was the verse from the Psalms, the writings of which more than 30% are rife with lament; nor, was the verse from my favorite Gospel, John; no, this verse was from a writing of a “minor prophet” of the Old Testament, the Prophet Habakkuk.

The verse? Habakkuk 3:17-19:

Though the fig tree does not blossom, and no fruit is on the vines;


though the produce of the olive fails,
and the fields yield no food;


though the flock is cut off from the fold,
and there is no herd in the stalls,

even though, I will rejoice in the Lord;


I will exult in the God of my salvation. God, the Lord, is my strength;


he makes my feet like the feet of a deer,
and makes me tread upon the heights.

                                                                                                            (NRSV, emphasis added)

Since that time, more than 30 years ago, this has been my “go to” verse…it was cross-stitched by a friend and hangs in my office today…it was my verse on the night that that tree crashed into my world…so many nights…so many experiences…I call it my “Even in the midst of the storm” verse.

It is my prayer that each one who has been affected by this storm, knows that “even in the midst of the storm” God is there…and, not only there…but, ahead in the recovery and rebuilding of his or her life…

Remember: It’s always good when you can hear the birds start singing, again.

Blessings,

rev. tracy

Remember.Recover.Resilience.Resurrection, v.2016

(This is an updated version of a previous blog)

For many of us, in the Louisiana UMC connection, Saturday August 27, 2005 is a critical time marker. That day, clergy and lay delegates to Annual Conference gathered at FUMC Baton Rouge to vote on the closure and sale of the UM owned Lafon Nursing Home in NOLA.   After the discussion and vote, our Bishop, Bill Hutchinson, rose to give the benediction. He and his wife were headed to New Mexico to attend to the memorial service of Kay’s father. His closing words were, “Friends heading south, be careful out there, there is a strong hurricane system in the Gulf.”

Unbeknownst to any of us seated there, the contraflow had already started and hundreds of lives were about to change.

Tomorrow marks the 11^Th “remembrance” of the destruction of the City of New Orleans from Hurricane Katrina. Actually, poor Katrina gets the blame for a lot of things that she did not cause. The truth of the matter is that when Katrina came ashore, she was a mere Cat 3 hurricane. The city had, on more than one occasion, withstood that kind of destructive force. And, early on the morning of August 29^th, it looked like it had, once again, dodged the proverbial bullet. I know this because 200 miles away, at my home in Sulphur, LA, there were 7 of us (and many cats and dogs) who breathed a collective sigh of relief when the storm had passed and the city was still standing. Certainly, there had been considerable flooding in the “low-lying areas” of Plaquemine and St. Bernard Parishes. And, there had been serious “overtopping” of the protective levees of the MR-GO in New Orleans East. By this time, the worst of Katrina was bearing down on the Northshore. Then, the unthinkable happened: the levee at the 17^th street canal breached into the adjoining Lakeview neighborhood flooding more than 80% of NOLA.

Now, it is no secret that I love NOLA. It is my home. After 11 years, I am pretty certain that the majority of people in this country still don’t “get” what actually happened to NOLA in the two days that followed the landfall of Katrina. I consider it a part of my mission to help people understand. What happened in the aftermath of Katrina was a series of man-made mistakes. That is all that I will say about that. If you are interested in seeing the timeline of the events, I encourage you to go to the Times-Picayune web page (www.nola.com) and find the graphic animation called, “Flash Flood” on the Katrina archives page. I have posted this site on my timeline on Facebook and would be happy to share it with any of you.

And, now for our 2^nd “R” word: “recovery.” I returned to NOLA in June of 2006. I was appointed to help churches vision forward their mission as “the Church” in the post-Katrina reality. These churches had lost people, property or both AND had been in sustained decline for more than 20 years.  One of these churches was Kenner UMC. This church was one of our Methodist Recovery Centers. In the two years that I served in this appointment, of the more than 42,000 people from faith-based and non-faith based organizations from all over this country that came through our UMC Recovery Centers, 14,000 came through KUMC. I think about this in terms of its exponential impact in the city of all the various denominational bodies that we worked alongside… Catholic, Baptist, Mennonite…too many to name and to number. Our primary mission was to help people, in whatever way we could to meet whatever their individual need to begin to “recover.” In many cases, we were putting “band-aids on heart attacks.” Often, we were digging through rubble to help find some piece of memory that might bring comfort to the ones who had lost everything. One group, found a homeowner’s wedding dress… torn and molded from the flood waters, brought that dress back to their home…had it completely restored…and, presented it to the homeowner on their following trip.

I could tell you the story of the family who, in the aftermath of the storm, had lost touch with their mother.  Their lives had led them all over the country.  They called and checked in on their mother, regularly.  But, seeing her, they realized that she had hidden the fact that she was quite ill.  She didn’t want to worry them.  For them, the storm was a blessing because they were given the opportunity to make the last months of her life really matter.

Oh, the stories that I could tell! Sometimes, all we could do was sit, listen and cry with the one’s whose lives were forever changed.

I remember as the weeks and months after Katrina first ticked away thinking, “We are in the midst of a great diaspora.”  Certainly, some left the area never to return.

I can’t help but think that this country is a little better off by having (even) a little bit of NOLA many of her fine cities…certainly, Mardi Gras is in places in which it has never been before… I have two friends who have brought Mardi Gras and NOLA food to their “new life” in a small, Pennsylvania town.

And, that brings me to our 3^rd “R” word: “resilience.” What we are seeing, eleven years later, is a stronger, more determined and definitely more resilient NOLA. While there was much criticism for the state’s quickness in refurbishing the Superdome, I cannot tell you how big a part that I feel that doing this played in the city’s recovery. More than a distraction, the Saints were, for the first time, real contenders for the Superbowl in 2009. Do you remember the “welcome home” that the Saints received on a frigid winter night/early morning after their divisional loss to Chicago?  Airline highway, from the Airport to the Saints Training Facility, was lined with hundreds (maybe thousands) of people in the middle of a bitterly, cold, winter’s night waving signs, “Bless You Boys,” etc.  And, what can be said about the 2010 Superbowl win?

Today, the New Orleans Charter School System is becoming a model of effective Charter Schools across the nation. Several years ago, two United Methodist Churches merged to form one much stronger UMC. The predominately white “downtown” First Church merged with the predominately African-Amercan, Grace UMC. The two are now known as “First-Grace.” First Grace UMC is a strong, vital and vibrant congregation. A couple of years ago, there was another significant merger of two churches: Kenner First UMC and El Mesias. They have merged to meet the needs of the transitioning neighborhood as a “mission based” church called, “First Love UMC.”

One can drive through the city of New Orleans and her surrounding areas and still see a “mixed bag of stuff.” There are great signs of “recovery.” New neighborhoods and businesses have “risen” from the “waves of the great flood.” Carrolton and the areas around City Park seem to have gained “new life.” Other areas such as “Musician’s Village” and “the Lower Ninth” are showing great signs of vibrancy and vitality.   (Thank you! Harry Connick, Jr and Brad Pitt!).

But, it isn’t all, sunshine and rainbows. Living back in the area, now eleven years from the storm, I am still amazed at how much “recovery” is yet to be done. I live in a fully recovered Katrina house. But, still, there are too many yet to be recovered. I am proud of the work of the Epworth Center (not just because it is housed in my present church, Aldersgate UMC) because of their commitment to “long term disaster recovery.” What this means is that there are still generous, life giving folks who continue to come to our area and rebuild from Katrina and subsequent storms.   Even now, in the midst of this month’s “historic river flooding,” the Epworth Center and tens of thousands of us are committed to helping people “recover” from life in the midst of the storms.

Indeed, a lot of recovery has been made complete.   Still, there are neighborhoods layered with the “blue tarps” of Katrina. Some are fully recovered. Other houses have been raised and seemed mostly recovered than others.   Others seemed more “barely” recovered.

My heart is heavy.  The truth is that, though there is (too) much left to be done in the “recovery,” NOLA is in many ways a much stronger, better, more determined city than it was ten years ago.

My heart is heavy.  Tens of thousands of our neighbors to the west have lost everything in the “Historic Louisiana Flood of 2016.”  For these, “recovery” is only really beginning.

The last “R” word is “resurrection.”   We, as Christians, find ourselves and our lives dependent upon “the” resurrection…that is, finding new life in Jesus Christ. Every day, for us, is “resurrection” day. A “new day” to “find life” and lose our lives for the sake of Jesus Christ.

In this “new life” we learn that “stuff” is…well, just “stuff.”  We learn that there isn’t a flood that Jesus cannot bring us through.  We learn that there isn’t a sorrow or sadness that can’t be healed and made “whole” again.

There is always a choice and a challenge when tragedy comes to us: to stand in faith or to buckle under the weight and worry of the disaster.

For those of us who already consider ourselves disciples, Jesus keeps stretching our faith. Jesus keeps saying, “You have come this far, come a little farther. You have committed this much, commit a little more. You love these people, now open your arms to these people. You have compassion for the one hurting person in front of you, now broaden that compassion to all hurting people in God’s world.”

Jesus is continually trying to remold us into his likeness, which means that there is only rest for us along the journey…until the journey is “fully” complete.

This whole “Katrina” event has become for me a metaphor in my thinking about the way that we heal from our broken-ness and hurt…and, a way to move forward from the dark, difficult places in our lives. A while ago on FB, a friend of mine’s status was: “Trying to get out from under this rock.”

I knew that that status was a direct reference to the loss that she and her family had suffered in the sickness and death of their mother. This was my reply: “Hang out under the rock for awhile, you will know when to crawl out…it’s when looking forward gives more energy than looking backward takes…”

The key is in knowing when to “crawl out,” isn’t it? And, isn’t it okay to “crawl back” from time to time? Certainly.  One must just remember that every moment of every day is an opportunity for “new life.”  And, that that “new life” comes through Jesus in the power of the Holy Spirit.

I love the way Jimmy Buffett says it in his “post-Katrina” ballad:

If a hurricane doesn’t leave you dead

It will make you strong

Don’t try to explain it just nod your head

Breathe In, Breathe Out, Move On

 Remembrance- Recovery-Resilience-Resurrection

These are words of hope, faith and life….

May they also be true for you…

Remember.Recover.Resilience.Resurrection

For many of us, in the Louisiana UMC connection, Saturday August 27, 2005 is a critical time marker. That day, clergy and lay delegates to Annual Conference gathered at FUMC Baton Rouge to vote on the closure and sale of the UM owned Lafon Nursing Home in NOLA.   After the discussion and vote, our Bishop, Bill Hutchinson, rose to give the benediction. He and his wife were headed to New Mexico to attend to the memorial service of Kay’s father. His closing words were, “Friends heading south, be careful out there, there is a strong hurricane system in the Gulf.” Unbeknownst to any of us seated there, the contraflow had already started and hundreds of lives were about to change.

Tomorrow marks the 11^Th “remembrance” of the destruction of the City of New Orleans from Hurricane Katrina. Actually, poor Katrina gets the blame for a lot of things that she did not cause. The truth is that when Katrina came ashore, she was a mere Cat 3 hurricane. The city had, on more than one occasion, withstood that kind of destructive force. And, early on the morning of August 29^th, it looked like it had, once again, dodged the proverbial bullet. I know this because 200 miles away, at my home in Sulphur, LA, there were 7 of us (and many cats and dogs) who breathed a collective sigh of relief when the storm had passed and the city was still standing. Certainly, there had been considerable flooding in the “low-lying areas” of Plaquemine and St. Bernard Parishes. And, there had been serious “overtopping” of the protective levees of the MR-GO in New Orleans East. By this time, the worst of Katrina was bearing down on the Northshore. Then, the unthinkable happened: the levee at the 17^th street canal breached into the adjoining Lakeview neighborhood flooding more than 80% of NOLA.

Now, it is no secret that I love NOLA. It is my home. After 11 years, I am pretty certain that the majority of people don’t “get” what actually happened to NOLA in the two days that followed the landfall of Katrina. I consider it a part of my mission to help people understand. What happened in the aftermath of Katrina was a series of man-made mistakes. That is all that I will say about that. If you are interested in seeing the timeline of the events, I encourage you to go to the Times-Picayune web page (www.nola.com) and find the graphic animation called, “Flash Flood” on the Katrina archives page. I have posted this site on my timeline on Facebook and would be happy to share it with any of you.

And, now for our 2^nd “R” word: “recovery.” I returned to NOLA in June of 2006. I was appointed to help churches vision forward their mission as “the Church” in the post-Katrina reality. These churches had lost people, property or both AND had been in sustained decline for more than 20 years.  One of these churches was Kenner UMC. This church was one of our Methodist Recovery Centers. In the two years that I served in this appointment, of the more than 42,000 people from faith-based and non-faith based organizations from all over this country that came through our UMC Recovery Centers, 14,000 came through KUMC. I think about this in terms of its exponential impact in the city of all the various denominational bodies that we worked alongside… Catholic, Baptist, Mennonite…too many to name and to number. Our primary mission was to help people, in whatever way we could to meet whatever their individual need to begin to “recover.” In many cases, we were putting “band-aids on heart attacks.” Often, we were digging through rubble to help find some piece of memory that might bring comfort to the ones who had lost everything. One group, found a homeowner’s wedding dress… torn and molded from the flood waters, brought that dress back to their home…had it completely restored…and, presented it to the homeowner on their following trip.

I could tell you the story of the family who, in the aftermath of the storm, had lost touch with their mother.  Their lives had led them all over the country.  They called and checked in on their mother, regularly.  But, seeing her they realized that she had hidden the fact that she was quite ill.  She didn’t want to worry them.  For them, the storm was a blessing because they were given the opportunity to make the last months of her life really matter.

Oh, the stories that I could tell! Sometimes, all we could do was sit, listen and cry with the one’s whose lives were forever changed.

I remember as the weeks and months after Katrina first ticked away thinking, “We are in the midst of a great diaspora.”  Certainly, some left the area, never to return.  We are blessed at Horseshoe Drive UMC to have Freddie and Mrs. Helen as a result of their leaving NOLA and settling in CENLA.  I can’t help but think that this country is a little better off by having (even) a little bit of NOLA many of her fine cities…certainly, Mardi Gras is in places in which it has never been before… I have two friends who have brought Mardi Gras and NOLA food to their “new life” in a small, Pennsylvania town.

And, that brings me to our 3^rd “R” word: “resilience.” What we are seeing, ten years later, is a stronger, more determined and definitely more resilient NOLA. While there was much criticism for the state’s quickness in refurbishing the Superdome, I cannot tell you how big a part that I feel that doing this played in the city’s recovery. More than a distraction, the Saints were, for the first time, real contenders for the Superbowl in 2009. Do you remember the “welcome home” that the Saints received on a frigid winter night/early morning after their divisional loss to Chicago?  Airline highway, from the Airport to the Saints Training Facility,  was lined with hundreds (maybe thousands) of people in the middle of a bitterly, cold, winter’s night waving signs, “Bless You Boys,” etc.  And, what can be said about the 2010 Superbowl win?

Today, the New Orleans Charter School System is becoming a model of effective Charter Schools across the nation. Two years ago, two United Methodist Churches merged to form one much stronger UMC. The predominately white down town First Church merged with the predominately African-Amercan, Grace UMC. The two are now known as First-Grace is a strong, vital and vibrant congregation. This year, there was another significant merger of two churches: Kenner First UMC and El Mesias. They have merged to meet the needs of the transitioning neighborhood as a “mission based” church called, “First Love UMC.”

Last week, as I was traveling through New Orleans, I spent a couple of hours driving around the most devastated areas of the city. It was definitely a mixed bag of stuff. There were great signs of “recovery.” New neighborhoods and businesses have “risen” from the “waves of the great flood.” Carrolton and the areas around City Park seem to have gained “new life.” Other areas such as “Musician’s Village” and “the Lower Ninth” are showing great signs of vibrancy and vitality.   (Thank you! Harry Connick, Jr and Brad Pitt!).

But, it isn’t all, sunshine and rainbows. On my drive last week, I was amazed at how much “recovery” is yet to be done. Driving through a typical “middle class” neighborhood, on a primary road in Jefferson Parish, there were still several houses with “layers” of blue tarps on their roofs.   On this same boulevard, some of the houses had been raised and seemed more fully recovered than others.   Others seemed more “barely” recovered.

My heart is heavy.  The truth is that, though there is (too) much left to be done in the “recovery,” NOLA is in many ways a much stronger, better, more determined city than it was ten years ago.

The last “R” word is “resurrection.”   We, as Christians, find ourselves and our lives dependent upon “the” resurrection…that is, finding new life in Jesus Christ. Every day, for us, is “resurrection” day. A “new day” to “find life” and lose our lives for the sake of Jesus Christ.

In this “new life” we learn that “stuff” is…well, just “stuff.”  We learn that there isn’t a flood that Jesus cannot bring us through.  We learn that there isn’t a sorrow or sadness that can’t be healed and made “whole” again.

There is always a choice and a challenge when tragedy comes to us: to stand in faith or to buckle under the weight of the world.   For those of us who already consider ourselves disciples, Jesus keeps stretching our faith. Jesus keeps saying, “You have come this far, come a little farther. You have committed this much, commit a little more. You love these people, now open your arms to these people. You have compassion for the one hurting person in front of you, now broaden that compassion to all hurting people in God’s world.”

Jesus is continually trying to remold us into his likeness, which means that there is only rest for us along the journey…until the journey is “fully” complete.

This whole “Katrina” event has become for me a metaphor in my thinking about the way that we heal from our broken-ness and hurt…and, a way to move forward from the dark, difficult places in our lives. A while ago on FB, a friend of mine’s status was: “Trying to get out from under this rock.” I knew that that status was a direct reference to the loss that she and her family had suffered in the sickness and death of their mother. This was my reply: “Hang out under the rock for awhile, you will know when to crawl out…it’s when looking forward gives more energy than looking backward takes…”  The key is in knowing when to “crawl out,” isn’t it? And, isn’t it okay to “crawl back” from time to time? Certainly.  One must just remember that every moment of every day is an opportunity for “new life.”  And, that that “new life” comes through Jesus in the power of the Holy Spirit.

I love the way Jimmy Buffett says it in his “post-Katrina” ballad:

If a hurricane doesn’t leave you dead

It will make you strong

Don’t try to explain it just nod your head

Breathe In, Breathe Out, Move On

Remembrance- Recovery-Resilience-Resurrection

These are words of hope, faith and life….

May they also be true for you…

Adrienne Courtney Dantin

January 28,1980- January 30, 2001

Today marks the 14^th anniversary of the death of my niece, Adrienne Courtney Dantin. Adrienne was diagnosed with non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma weeks after she began her freshman year of college at Transylvania University in Lexington, Kentucky. Transy is a Disciples of Christ University adjacent to the University of Kentucky. Everything was in front of her. The initial prognosis was hopeful.

Adrienne, along with her parents, my sister and brother-in-law, sought the best doctors in the country and, along with the doctors, set their hope on an aggressive treatment plan. This treatment plan included: surgery, radiation, chemotherapy and stem cell transplant. For the next three years, Adrienne was more sick than well. But, she seldom complained.

Her mom moved across the state to be Adrienne’s number one care-giver. Her dad became her great defender and pit bull, especially relating to the insurance companies. Her brother, Alex and (soon to be) sister-in-law, Brea were her primary source of “normal.” Being able to stay in Lexington, Adrienne sought her own source of “normal” supported by school, friends, and her AOP sisters.

And, Adrienne? She fought. She fought the cancer. She allowed the poking and prodding and treatments and indignities and inconveniences and interferences in her life. She tolerated hair loss and hormonal changes and nausea ad nauseam. Yes, she fought.

And, she lived. In the “in between” times, she lived the best life that she could live. One of her “life strategies” from the first of her diagnosis to the day that she died was to be a “normal” “Transy” college student. She may be the only person that I have ever known who actually wanted to live in a college dorm. As I write this, I am wrapped up in a special blanket of some of Adrienne’s t-shirts. Her mother had it made for me. There is a T-shirt of Adrienne’s trip to Washington, DC for the inauguration of President Bill Clinton; a t-shirt of “our” first mission trip together in 1994; a t-shirt of her trip to Israel in 2000, just months before her final recurrence of the tumor; her Jimmy Buffett’s Parrotthead Bar Exam t-shirt; her beloved Camp Kumbayah Work Camp t-shirt; several of her AOP t-shirts; and the “piece de resistance”- the t-shirt given to her by the FBI and the Secret Service when she was detained at a Transy visit to the White House.

Now, this is a great story. As she and her schoolmates were going through the security screening at the White House, Adrienne set off the security alarms.   She had tested positively for some kind of radioactive element. She was whisked into a private security area while they did a pretty thorough background security check. Now, please understand. At this time, Adrienne was not yet fully recovered from her stem cell transplant, she had yet to regain a full set of hair, and she had had a recent scan which had left residual radioactive isotopes in her system.   She looked like a cancer patient. But, she never copped to it and they never asked. After she was cleared, she was released back to the group with the best “behind the scenes White House tour.” She was, also, given a few mementos: a coaster, a cup, her official FBI file and her coveted FBI t-shirt. And, she also left with the biggest smile, ever! Yes, she lived.

She fought and she lived…and, she did so with grace and humor and courage. Oh, and one more thing…faith. Adrienne had faith…she had faith and a servant’s heart. Throughout all of her illness, she believed in and trusted in God, fully. When the cancer recurred in the Fall of 2000, she was told by her medical team that medically her options were pretty much exhausted. She was given the option for more chemotherapy. It was clear that, at that point, that the additional chemotherapy may have prolonged her life for a couple of months. Quantity vs. Quality. Adrienne’s response was this: “No, I want hair for Christmas.” You see, Christmas was Adrienne’s favorite holiday. And, for the previous two Christmas’, Adrienne had not had hair. And, this she was not willing to suffer a third time.

And, all knew that time was short. The “single-site” tumor that had proved resistant to all forms of medical treatment, continued to grow. The tumor was located near her heart, between her lung and ribs, impairing her ability to breathe. A side effect of this was continued collection of fluid on her lungs.   Additionally, the chemotherapy drugs had greatly, adversely affected her heart.   By late January, Adrienne was on oxygen 24/7.

When one fights an illness like cancer, one of the great frustrations is the loss of control. It seems that cancer has all of the control and all of the power.   Adrienne’s last few months symbolized her “winning”…she took back her life. She took back her life and did so on her own terms, as much as she could, often pushing the limits. She left the hospital at Christmas time because her Granny was coming in and she did not intend to spoil her Granny’s Christmas.   On the day before her 21^st birthday, Adrienne and her boyfriend, Eric, drove from Louisville to Lexington (about an hour and a half) to attend (what would be Adrienne’s last) AOP event, a winter formal in her honor. I still marvel at the strength that my sister and brother in law exhibited to make this last wish possible for Adrienne.

And, on January 30, 2001, two days after her 21^st birthday, Adrienne died. She did so with dignity, elegance, confidence, courage, grace and, I believe, peace…perfect peace. And, yes, she had faith.

She was wrong about one thing, however. In her journal, she wrote that I was her hero. She was so wrong. She is mine. I hope one day, I can be just like her.

As a child growing up in New Orleans, every Sunday night our family would watch a locally broadcasted show on the Public Broadcasting Station called, “A Sunday Journal.” The show was hosted by the late, Jim Metcalf. At the time of Jim Metcalf’s death in 1977, he was considered the “unofficial poet laureate” of New Orleans and he was the fourth “best selling poet” in the United States. Writing in a style comparable to William Frost, Metcalf was a master wordsmith who brought breath to the “ordinary” images of the simple things of life. Every Sunday evening, he began his show with these three words, “Please to begin…”

When I moved to Georgia to begin my seminary journey, I became employed at a local church as the Associate Pastor.   One of my primary responsibilities was the youth ministry of the church.   As often is the case, I inherited an already existing ministry whose motto was “We have begun…Let us begin.” Now, I have to tell you that this motto was, for me, at least in the beginning, a bit of a “head-scratcher.” How is it that one begins after they have already begun?

Beginnings.   This is the way of the Christian life. As Christians, we are always beginning…again and again and again.

The “new year” seems to be the best and most appropriate time to think about “new” beginnings, isn’t it?

So, how is that New Year’s resolution working out for you? Oh, come on… you know you promised that 2015 was going to be the year of the _________________________.

Here are a few fun stats about New Year’s resolutions (according to the University of Scranton, Journal of Clinical Psychology):

Percent of Americans who usually make NY’s resolutions:  45%; Percent of people who are successful in achieving their resolutions:  8%

Type of Resolutions (Percent above 100% because of multiple resolution)

Self-improvement or educated related resolutions:  47%; Weight related resolutions:  38%; Money related resolutions:34%; Relationship related resolutions:  31%

Length of resolutions:

Resolution maintained through the first week: 75%; Past two weeks: 71%; Past one month:  64%; Past six months:  46%

I think that I may fit in the first category of “failure to fulfill or even maintain” New Year’s resolutions. Okay, so maybe a week’s a stretch…   You know what I mean, the spirit’s willing but the flesh is weak…

But, why? “Why is ‘the flesh’ weak?” Or, perhaps, the better question is, “Is the spirit really ‘willing’?” Or, “What can be done to strengthen the (not quite) ‘willing’ spirit?”

Could it be that we are not “right-minded” about those things that we are trying to “resolve to change?” This is really what a (New Year’s) resolution is about, isn’t it? It is something that we “resolve to change” about ourselves.

Uh-oh, I used the “C-word.” Yes, I did. “C” as in change. Change is hard. Could it be that, for many of us, we do not really want to change? Could the flesh actually be more “willing” than the spirit?

Now, let’s look at that “top 4” list above, again.   Do you notice something? Not one of these “top 4” seem to have anything to do with deepening a relationship with God.   They seem to be about “fixing” some internal issue of esteem or dissatisfaction with one’s self.

As Christians, we are children of God. The scripture assures us that, as children of God, we are created by God, in the image of God, and for God’s good pleasure.

Could it be that we are seeking to resolve the wrong change? Rather than seeking to change something about ourselves, shouldn’t we be seeking deeper, truer relationship with the One who Created us? The One who has Redeemed us? The One who Sustains us?

Think about this with me for a moment…If our lives were aligned more closely with God…if we truly embraced God’s nature from within, what could we not conquer? One of my favorite scripture verses is, “I can do all things through Christ Jesus who strengthens me.” (Philippians 4:13)

The Apostle Paul, in speaking about the ever-present “thorn” in his flesh said, “I pleaded with the Lord three times for it to leave me alone. He said to me, “My grace is enough for you, because power is made perfect in weakness.” (2 Corinthians 12:8-9)

Are we conquerors? Is God’s grace sufficient for us?

Grace. New beginnings.

I think that when we get this right, when we resolve to deepen our walk with Christ, all the other “things” that bother us about ourselves will fall into God’s will for our lives.   And, God’s will is perfect.

This year, I am encouraging myself (and others) to look at the spiritual side of what it means to resolve to change.

So, here are my “top 4”:

Turn down the world, turn up Jesus in your life. Shed your life of fear and doubt and find faith and hope in the light of Jesus.   Turn a deaf ear to “negativity” and “embrace” possibility.

De-clutter your life, make open a space for God. Just as our physical spaces become overrun with clutter and burdens, our spiritual lives do, too.   Spend time in prayer and in the Word of God becoming open to all that God has to say and do in your life. God’s talking, are you listening?

Embrace faith, don’t miss “it.” The “it” here is the invitation from God to a life-giving, life-saving relationship through Jesus Christ. The invitation is to, “Come and see.” (John 1: 43-51). God is calling you to great things, if only you believe.

Keep Calm and Make It Happen. Make persistence and perseverance your two favorite words in this new year.   Change yourself and you change the world.

Please to begin…

Blessings,

Okay, so, I got home last night from Lagniappe Theatre’s production of Smoke On The Mountain and all I could think was, “They did it, again!” and “How blessed are we in CENLA!”

When people ask me about Alexandria, my response is, “It’s a great place to live! It is so alive with music, culture and the arts.” This is usually followed by, “And, the food is getting better and better!” (Hey! I am from NOLA, after all)

It was just another Thursday evening for me. Pretty good day at work.   A little tired but, no more than usual. Headed home to sit in my chair with my little white fluffy, Idgie.

Not! As I traveled Jackson Street, into my head popped, “It’s opening night for Smoke On The Mountain.” The posters have been hanging in the church for weeks. I even announced it to the congregation last week from the pulpit. I always think (as I did for PHS’ production of Jekyll and Hyde, the week before) that I will make the Sunday matinee. More often than not, I do. I did not with Jekyll and Hyde. So, as I journeyed down Jackson Street, I thought, “Maybe I should go tonight?” Now, I assure you that I did not think this in the “I’ll just go and get it over with” kind of way. I thought about it in the “I am not too tired and I may be on Sunday” sort of way. So, I got home. I let little white fluffy out. Got back in the car and headed downtown to Coughlin-Saunders and entered into the fictitious world of the Mount Pleasant Baptist Church, Rev. Oglethorpe and the fabulous Sanders family.

What an extraordinary evening of exceptional talent! Karen Burns-Schexnayder and Ross Schexnayder assembled as exemplary a cast of characters as I have ever seen. Each of them professional actors and musicians, many of whom traveled from far away cities to be a part of a great night of revival at the “Mount Pleasant Baptist Church.”

For those of you who may not know, I am not a musician. I marvel at the talents of great musicians and this cast was full of them. At first, my ears could not believe my eyes. Was the music pre-recorded? How could that be? Yet, how could these actors move so effortlessly from one instrument to another? And, what were all of those instruments? I did recognize John Lee’s bass. There was a piano, a banjo, a fiddle, a couple of guitars, a big “music squawk box” thing… Honestly, I do not even know what to call some of those instruments. Surely, all of those people could not possibly play all of those instruments! But, they did. Effortlessly. Or, so it seemed to me. And, they were exceptionally talented.

Behind the music was the acting genius of an amazing, energetic ensemble. To say that they were “Over the top!” is a gross understatement.   A well-written script deserves quality acting. A well-written comedic script deserves well-timed comedic acting. Smoke On The Mountain did not disappoint. Each of the actors brought such dimension and integrity to their role.   From the moment of serious Gospel witness to the absurdities of the dysfunction of the family, they were in it and so was the audience.

As I watched the show unfold, I pictured Karen Burns-Schexnayder (a/k/a June), Ross Schexnayder (a/k/a Rev. Mervin Oglethorpe), Devin Beauboeuf a/k/a Denise, one of the twins) and Andrew Ross Crowe (a/k/a Dennis, one of the twins) in a “Carol Burnett, Harvey Korman, Carol Lawrence and Tim Conway” sort of way.  They each played with one another and played off of one another. Karen, Ross and Devin are local, of course. Andrew comes to the production from New York City. The other members of the cast, Rhondda Wallace (a/k/a Vera), Richard Daniel (a/k/a Burl) and Tommy Hancock (a/k/a Stanley) come to the production from other parts of the country. Truly, a gifted and amazing cast.

While they all were great, I have to say, Karen Burns, who I am growing to respect more and more as “comedic genius,” just stole the show. My favorite line: “So what if I can’t sing and none of you are deaf!” Watching Karen “sign” the hymns and play “bizarre” musical instruments “bizarrely” (I looked it up. It is a word.) kept me in stitches all night, and long after I got home. And, she’s 7 and 1/2 months pregnant! WoW! Just WoW!

Having been raised in New Orleans, I was probably raised as far away from the “Mountain” as one could be. Yet, for more than two hours last night, I found myself transported back to a time and place that I have never been. And, it was marvelous. It was truly a night of “singin’ and witnessin’.”

Smoke On The Mountain: go see it.

Indeed, CENLA, we are very blessed. We are a diverse, rich community of talent: musicians, singers, writers, artists, actors, chefs all generously and easily accessible. From Second Saturdays (downtown) and Inglewood Farms, from Spirits and Tamp and Grind, from Lagniappe Theatre, PHS, City Players, from the Alexandria Museum and the lobby of Cabrini Hospital, from one end of this community to another (and, dare I say, in every congregation and religious community), there are many rich and varied opportunities for cultural engagement. Blessed, indeed.

(Note: I am that girl.  The one who laughs really loud.  Often, it is a deep belly laugh.  Sometimes, it is a hackle.  I don’t know.  I am told that it is loud.  Be thankful that I am not sick because I sneeze even louder.)

Last year, at Horseshoe Drive UMC we did something radically different for our Christmas Eve Service.

For the previous five years, we had done a pretty traditional Christmas Eve service. By this I mean, we began in full light and ended in darkness. In fact, for several of those years, we began the service with a pre-concert Jazz combo. Worshippers were greeted in the parking lot by a group of Christmas Carolers. They entered into the Narthex, where there were refreshments. Ultimately, they came into the sanctuary where a jazz combo was playing traditional Christmas music. The pre-service concert moved from secular to sacred. Once completed, we moved into our “traditional” Christmas Eve Communion/Candlelight service, ending the service with candles aglow singing, “Silent Night.”

For most of my ministry, I had pretty much always done it that way…or, some similar variation on this traditional theme. That is, until, last year.

Actually, a few years ago, I began to “re-think” Christmas Eve. I started to question why had we always “done it that way.” Starting in full light and ending exiting in quiet and darkness. Added to that was the challenge, as the minister, to ask/suggest that all worshippers, “Exit the sanctuary quietly to the parking lot.” (Aside: Yeah, that works 🙂

It is Christmas Eve, after all. It is the most “Silent Night” of all, right?

Wrong. I began to think a bit differently about it. Was it really all that quiet? I mean, there were animals and angels and visitors. And, there was great joy! Joy is not quiet. This is the Epiphany part.

So, I began to “re-think” Christmas Eve and our Christmas Eve worship. I have to admit it took me a couple of years to formulate a “new” worship service…and a couple of more to work up the courage to try it out.

But, last year, I crafted the Christmas Eve service in a whole different “light” (pun intended). We would begin in darkness. The jazz ensemble was changed to an orchestral ensemble. We would begin in darkness. Complete darkness. In the darkness, our Ensemble would sing “Peace, Peace” and I would bring the light from the back of the church to the front. Once at the front, we would sing, as a congregation, “Silent Night” and the candles would be lit until the whole church was aglow. The movement of the service progressed through the lighting of the Advent Candles, the singing of the “natal” hymns, the sharing of the Christmas story for the children, etc. With every movement, the sanctuary lights were incrementally lit. Following the sermon was the sacrament of Holy Communion and the sharing of the “Christmas Creed.” By this time, the sanctuary was in full light. The service ended with our singing “Joy to the World” and a rousing HDUMC version of “O Jesus, What a Wonderful Child.”

The service ended with movement and energy and joy…and, it seemed… well, it seemed “right.”

And, we will celebrate in a similar fashion this year.

This is a re-post from an article that I wrote some time ago, at the anniversary of 9-11.

It was never my privilege to have known Russ Keene…and, in truth, all that I can say now is that I know a little about him.

Leo Russell Keene III, “Russ,” was killed in the south tower of the World Trade Center in New York City on the day that we have come to know as “9-11.” This what I know about Russ’ last day:

Russ was employed as a financial analyst, Keefe, Bruyette & Woods, a firm on the 89^th floor of the south tower.

He called his wife, Kristen and his two-year old daughter Mayzalle from his office immediately after the first plane struck the first tower.

He told his wife that they were beginning to evacuate the building. Shortly, thereafter, the second plane hit the second tower.

He and several co-workers were in an elevator at the time.

The elevator went into a “freefall” and got stuck right above the first floor.

Using his laptop, as a flashlight, Russ found a narrow crack in the elevators.

Try as they might, they were only able to partly open the elevator.

The opening was so small that only two petite women, Russ’ co-workers, were able to escape the elevator.

As they made it to safety, Russ told the two women, “I hope that I have not offended God in any way while I have been here on earth. But, if I have, I hope he forgives me.”

Before the firefighters could come back to help Russ and the others, the whole building collapsed.

Every year, as we, as a nation, recall the events of that Wednesday morning in 2001, I sit in stony silence and listen to the roll call of those innocents whose lives were suddenly cut short by an abominable act of evil.

I, like many of you, remember all too clearly the events of “9-11.” Throughout that day, as I sat paralyzed in front of the television, I was getting reports and updates on persons from our community who were in NYC and in proximity to the World Trade Center that day. About mid-afternoon, I received the call from one of our church members that there was a Russ Keene who was among those missing. It was her daughter-in-law’s brother. Russ and his family had grown up in the church that I was serving.

First, the hours passed and then, the days and weeks before it was determined that Russ had never made it out of that elevator. I cannot imagine the grief and pain and loss for the Keene family, for his wife and child and for all who knew him.

In the wake of his death, his wife Kristen found a letter. In it, Russ told of a “feeling” that he had that he might die young and unexpectedly. He wanted her and the family to know that he was going to be all right. . He needed them to know that he loved them and that his life, while cut short, had value. He gave details about things that he knew she would need to take care of. And, he professed a faith in God and Jesus as His Savior.

Some might say, after reading a letter like that, that Russ had a “premonition” or a “foretelling” of his own untimely death. I do not think so. I believe that one of the lessons that we can all learn from Russ Keene’s death is that he was prepared to die. His life was in order, his “business” was “taken care of” and he lived each day of his life, ready…for whatever may come…whatever that was…and, probably the last words that he uttered were a simple prayer of confession to the God whom he knew and whom he served: “I hope that I have not offended God in any way while I have been here on earth. But, if I have, I hope he forgives me.”

A few weeks later, I officiated at Russ’ memorial service at Henning Memorial UMC. In the funeral liturgy for our church, there is a prayer that when we pray, we say, “Give to us now your grace, that as we shrink before the mystery of death, we may see the light of eternity. Speak to us once more your solemn message of life and of death. Help us to live as those who are prepared to die. And, when our days here are accomplished, enable us to die as those who go forth to live, so that living or dying, our life may be in you, and that nothing on life or death will be able to separate us from your great love in Christ Jesus. Amen.”

Thank you Russ Keene for the vision with which you held the light of eternity. May it be so with all of our lives.

Blessings,