Affectionate Responsibility: The Doing of Love

You know they’re coming. Those moments when you’re confronted with the worst of you so that the best of you can break free. Sometimes those moments come right after you’ve rolled your eyes at someone who beat you to the last pair of Nine West leopard pumps…on sale…in your size. *hangs head* Other times, they come right after you cut someone off in traffic, took their parking space or said an intentionally unkind word. The ugliness of our imperfections can show in a myriad of ways that, if unchecked, cause the beauty in us to be called into question.

That’s what happened to me. Here I was wearing love like a banner; basking in the fact that I was becoming almost a martyr for it. And that’s not a problem. Everyone should want to sacrifice themselves so that a higher purpose is served. For me, that purpose was love. But is that what I was giving? It wasn’t until one of those moments came, through a conversation with a friend, I accepted that the answer was no.

I realized my conception of love only suited me and what I was trying to do. I can purpose, with everything I have, to be the bridge that closes the religious gap which divides us all but if the people I encounter daily do not recognize the authenticity of my intentions with them, it doesn’t really matter. We can be concerned with the lives of our co-workers, our neighbors, the poor and the impoverished but if we can’t show concern to those who show concern for us, what are we doing? We can be kind to strangers on the street, believing we’re unknowingly entertaining angels, but what if we are not treating the angels we know are in our lives with the same affection?

These questions and the numerous others I had after my talk caused me to wonder if I really knew what love does. Not what love is…because there is a difference. I know that the iPad is Apple’s newest (and coolest) tablet toy but I have no clue what you do with it. I am certain that love is integral to existing and thriving in this world but I was beginning to see that I wasn’t so certain of its mechanics. And so I went to the place where so many retreat in order to get the very answer I needed: 1 Corinthians 13. Needing it in another way, I sought the Message Translation.

Love never gives up.

Love cares more for others than for self.
Love doesn't want what it doesn't have.

Love doesn't strut.

Love doesn't have a swelled head,

Love doesn't force itself on others,

Love isn't always "me first,"

Love doesn't fly off the handle,

Love doesn't keep score of the sins of others,

Love doesn't revel when others grovel.

Love takes pleasure in the flowering of truth.

Love puts up with anything,

Love trusts God always,

Love always looks for the best,

Love never looks back but keeps going to the end.

As if it were my first time reading this, I finally understood that if I want to be love, I have to do what love does. So I read it again and replaced love with myself.

Candice never gives up.

Candice cares more for others than for herself.

Candice doesn't want what she doesn't have.

Candice doesn't strut,

Candice doesn't have a swelled head,

Candice doesn't force herself on others,

Candice isn't always "me first,"

Candice doesn't fly off the handle,

Candice doesn't keep score of the sins of others,

Candice doesn't revel when others grovel,

Candice takes pleasure in the flowering of truth,

Candice puts up with anything,

Candice trusts God always,

Candice always looks for the best,

Candice never looks back but keeps going to the end.

This is what I’m supposed to do. This is what we’re all supposed to do. Love is what we’re meant to be. We can’t quit. We can’t boast. We can’t force. We can’t live in the past. We can’t be unwilling to forgive. For if we are any of those things, we can’t be love. As I read our job description, I recognize how great the task is before us. We are not perfect. At no point will we ever master all of these things. But we can try. We can try to offer everyone we meet the same radical behavior that changed our lives. And when we get tired of trying to do it, we will just do it- because it’s a part of us.

It’s what we do.

It’s who we are.

We are love.

Oh, what a blessed assurance.

©CMB, 2011

A Tear's Prayer

Oh God, sustainer of life

Creator of all things- including us

We thank You for the opportunity to make manifest Your will in this earth

For some our presence marks moments of great joy

May those who greet us with smiles remember this time in the days when uncertainty is to come

For others we are the evidence of unspeakable pain

May they understand the lengths You will go to heal them

Oh all powerful and all wise Master

Let us fall from eyes that seek to see You in everything

Let the hearts on which we rest be moved closer to Your will and grace

May we water gardens of victory

May we seal doors to the past

May we know when our time has come to be no more

And may we then encourage those we have met to learn to live without us

Amen

©CMB, 2011

The Greatest of These is Love: My Episcopalian Worship Experience

Mother Teresa once said “prayer, in action, is love and love, in action, is service”. From the moment I first read her words, I understood the greater power of my prayers. They were not idle words sent into the universe in hopes of better days. They were my ability to transform the life of someone else. It is not enough to verbally request that conditions be improved; my hands and feet must become involved in the work. My mother tells the story of me being 2 years and I, with tears in my eyes, packed all of my toys into a brown paper bag. She said I’d seen a commercial about children in Ethiopia and realized they had so little and I so much. I wanted their lives to be better and believed it could start with my dolls and train set.

Twenty seven years later, I am not far removed from the day I saw that commercial. I still want to live in service. I pray that God does the radical work within me that allows me to embody love in ways unimaginable. As I prayed for a more compassionate heart geared toward service, I became more intrigued by a denomination I always believed had their finger on the pulse of that: the Episcopal Church. My research of the Episcopal tradition took me beyond its early beginnings to learning more of the fight for racial and gender equality. As I read books like Yet With A Steady Beat: The African-American Struggle for Recognition in the Episcopal Church and Episcopal Women: Gender, Spirituality and Commitment in an American Mainline Denomination, I saw that all the steps taken by the Church were not easy but members challenged each other to personify the very love for which they worshipped God. And today, I admire the transparency of the Episcopal Church when it speaks of its plateaus and declines in membership. But most importantly, I admire how they refuse to allow that to impact their ability to serve the people of the world regardless of race, gender, age, class or sexual orientation. Because their love has always inspired me, I chose to visit this past Sunday. I attended St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church in Winston Salem, North Carolina.

St. Stephen’s has always been in the heart of the African-American Community and lends itself as a beacon of hope for so many. Though Sunday was my first time there, I had no idea how integral St. Stephen’s was to my growth and development. As a second grade student, my mother’s teacher asked her to speak before her St. Stephen’s congregation. As a child who was encouraged by my mother to speak before our church congregation and as an adult who has spoken in many churches across this country, it was humbling to worship among the same people who encouraged her all those years ago. Connecting much of my future to her past in that present was amazing.

There’s always the myth presented by so many unfamiliar with the Episcopal tradition that they do not read the Bible; that couldn’t be further from the truth. Though they use The Book of Common Prayer for services, it is filled with numerous passages of Scripture. The service I attended, known as the Holy Eucharist, was simplistic is nature but challenged me to a higher level of love in the grandest of ways. First, a member of the St. Stephen’s clergy entered the sanctuary with a service dog. I’d seen dogs before but never in a church! I can only imagine the love and warmth he must have experienced to feel comfortable to continue worshipping there. Too often those who do not look, act or seem like us are ostracized by the ones who profess to be so welcoming. Just in seeing him there, I was challenged to find ways to make the love I give more inviting to those different than me.

The pastor, a Ghanaian, delivered a sermon about mirrors reflecting what they see and being an opportunity to change what we see. Using a mirror as his prop, he showed us how God does the same thing. Through Him, we can see ourselves and change those things necessary to be even greater servants. I understood, then, why Episcopalians could lead lives of service. They concentrate on inward development that allows for a greater outward witness. That was also evidenced when the Bishop read the job openings he received that week and reminded the congregation of the members who worked in those places. The Bishop understood the need for collective work and responsibility to ensuring better lives for us all. If you can’t find a better way in the church, where can you go?

And it was in a special moment that I finally “got it”. Having read the Prayer of Saint Francis so many times, I was finally in a congregation of individuals who looked like me and shared some of the same experiences I did. It was in the same sacred place where my mother once spoke about having peace on earth and goodwill toward men that I said “Lord, make me an instrument of your peace. Where there is hatred, let me sow love.” Like Mother Teresa and Saint Francis, my desire should be that God use me to be the answer to whatever I pray. My desire should be that daily I strive to be a more willing vessel than I was before.

Since worshipping four days ago, I’ve begun to study the Episcopal Church more; I have even ordered my own Book of Common Prayer. St. Stephen’s is a special place. It was there I connected with a history of myself that made my journey make sense. It was there I saw love personified. It was there I was introduced to a higher sense of purpose. I was created to serve- to serve God and His people. Where is there is no love, I was designed to fill those places.

Selah and Amen.

CMB, ©2011

Righteous Salutations: Experiencing the United Church of Christ

I’ve grown up in church all my life. More specifically, I’ve grown up in the Black Baptist church all my life. My childhood is full of memories of lace dresses, Easter speeches and Sunday School. As a child, I would even imitate women catching the Holy Ghost and await the punishment that came every time I was caught red-handed. A member of Girl Scouts, a youth usher and choir member and one that was never afraid to stand before the congregation and speak, socially I gained my worth in the Church. I learned who I was and who I was meant to be there. And those lessons have successfully carried me through life.

Now, as a young woman, I admittedly stand at a crossroads. While I will never abandon the teachings and leadership of Christ that have sustained me thus far, I am beginning to question if I have always manifested them correctly. As our body of Believers remains divided on so many issues, I know I have not always stood on the right side and not because I completely agreed. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. once said “in the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies but the silence of our friends.” In silence, I concurred with positions I do not believe.

I do not believe churches should ignore their responsibility to the poor and less fortunate.

I do not believe people should be persecuted and made uncomfortable to worship in the places I do because of their lifestyle.

I do not believe churches should remain silent as the rights to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness are denied to many.

And as I became more comfortable with what I didn’t believe, I knew my place of worship had to align with what I did. For the past year, I wondered if there was a place within the Baptist tradition for my views and positions. Did I still belong? The place the cradled me and challenged me to be my best self now seemed to alienate me, not in act but in ideal. As I shared my longing with my friends and others, I was encouraged to visit churches outside my denomination as I may find the peace in worship that I believed was becoming an illusion. And so, in January, I attended Parkway United Church of Christ in Winston Salem, North Carolina. The experience changed my life forever.

I’d come to know Parkway UCC through a colleague of mine. As a Sociology Instructor and she a member of the Humanities faculty, we would often swap classroom and life experience stories. We then learned, through conversation, that our position on the church was quite similar. She told me she’d found affirmation of her belief system within her UCC denomination and pulled up the website. I became so overwhelmed with emotion to read their banner “No Matter Where You Are On Life’s Journey, You Are Welcome Here”. Their belief that “God is still speaking” moved me in unimaginable ways. It was as if they recognized that because we are still here, God’s mission to spread love and peace remain active and He is still actively informing us on how to do it. The UCC has always been at the forefront of social justices in America since its inception and when the UCC decided to become an open and affirming denomination, they immediately received my respect. Someone needed to lead the charge in better treatment of all people and I was glad that it was them.

I attended Parkway the Sunday before Dr. King’s holiday during what they call their Healing and Silence ceremony. Before entering the service, I took the time to read some of the postings in the hallway. Many were information about local and national events; however, one in particular gave my heart the greatest joy. It was the story of an African-American lesbian student who received a scholarship from Parkway. This young lady’s ethnicity or lifestyle did not matter to a congregation committed to seeing her academically succeed. Though the only African-American attending service that day, I was amazed at the abundance of diversity within the congregation. Children of various ethnicities sat beside their gay mothers and enjoyed worship together. It was amazing. Not once did I feel out of place. Ironically, I felt like this is exactly where I was supposed to be. We prayed for the healing of our nation, our world and the pastor spoke of the importance of passing peace wherever we go. My heart smiled when the pastor told the congregation why the liturgist was absent and asked us to keep her dog in our prayers, as an emergency with him kept her away from service. As the mother of a 13 week old Italian mastiff, any denomination that recognizes the importance of praying for our pets is alright with me!

Probably the most moving moment came when the church was completely silent. Nothing could be heard except the sounds of the nature that enveloped the sanctuary. It was in those moments that I felt the closest to God. I thanked Him for allowing me to opportunity to see that I could love Christ and champion gay rights. I could believe in God and send my resources to third world countries, not because they should believe in my God too but, because they need them. I could be intentional in my commitment to being a better person and, consequently, effect greater change in this world than through any other means. I can be the love I feel is so missing among us today. I thank the UCC and Parkway for showing me that.

Indeed, I am welcome here.

CMB, ©2011