Category: guest posts

One Big Idea

(reprinted with permission from a Facebook post by Diana Butler Bass, author of Grounded: Finding God in the World)

Ten years ago, in Christianity for the Rest of Us, I shared a vision of institutional church renewed by vibrant spirituality. That vision emerged from three sources: 1) my own experience, 2) dreaming of a different sort of church, and 3) solid research.

Community renewed by vibrant spirituality. That’s the dream. That’s the big idea. An old idea. But an idea that needs new life today when institutions and communities are struggling and can’t find their way.

It is really pretty simple. Christianity for the Rest of Us was about spirituality embodied in practices — ten beautiful practices of faith. Communities that found new heart by choosing to do good.

People’s History of Christianity was about the same thing — the life of institutions being renewed through vibrant spirituality — this time, it was about the life-giving power of those practices throughout history as the real “thread” of faith, a living tradition. The heartbeat of Christianity at its best.

Christianity After Religion argued that the future depends on us getting this right — that spiritual experience and touching the holy is not only a path to renewing the church but is part of a larger story about the renewing of our culture — an awakening.

And Grounded opens the door to spiritual experience,”storied” by religious traditions, as a path to full humanity and renewal of the earth.

That’s it. One big idea: the whole point is experiencing the power of the sacred, of trusting and following the Spirit as it moves toward love of God and neighbor. Of eyes open, awake to love and joy, hearts “strangely warmed.” And if we do this, we can get across the dangerous chasm of our times and find ourselves on the other side of a bridge — the side where there is more love for the earth, more love for each other, a kind of community that can be accepting and peaceable. We can set a bigger table for the future. It is real.

One idea.

One idea that has called my heart since I was a child. One idea shared in speech and story. But not my idea. It is OUR idea. For so many thousands and thousands and thousands of us know this idea in our bones, we’ve ached for it, prayed for it, worked for it. One idea of justice and grace and goodness in a renewed way in transformed community.

And we can measure our progress. Not by attendance, but by measuring the spread of the conversation, by tracking things like spiritual depth, gratitude, awareness of awe and wonder, and our understandings of meaning and purpose of our lives (for instance, Pew “measures” these things in polling). We can figure out if we are successful by framing the questions differently, by looking for alternative forms of “success” and transformation. We can do this — there are ways of introducing these ideas into communities and congregations and discerning the changes in people’s lives.

And it is lovely. It is a way full of stories, laughter, unexpected surprises, everyday heroes, tragic mistakes — it is like living the play we are writing — everyday enacting grace in the world’s theater. It is magic. It is the greatest drama, comedy, farce, thriller, ballad, and romance ever.

And it is hope. Hope, hope, hope.

Do NOT give up. The current ugliness is because the greater vision beckons, the new possibilities are closer than ever. A more hospitable world, a more just humanity. It isn’t about fixing the church. It is about renewing our life together — and our life with the planet — by experiencing God with us.

Hope in Solving Border Issues

by Ron Cammel; a freelance writer and journalist. These are his reflections after participating in the Southwest Conference/United Church of Christ Border Immersion and Convergence events with his partner, Designated Conference Minister Bill Lyons.

Last weekend I witnessed American citizens join with undocumented immigrants to demand humane treatment for migrants. I heard stories about migrants who tried to escape violence or extreme poverty and then were jailed in the U.S. and deported. I heard stories from tearful migrants who were trying to reunite with their fathers or husbands who were locked in detention centers unsure of their fate.

I haven’t paid enough attention to the issues of illegal migration, refuge, deportations and border security. Migration is probably the world’s largest humanitarian crisis right now. Arizona is a hot spot. Now that I have connected more faces and stories to what I casually followed in the news, I find myself questioning the conventional thinking about securing borders and controlling immigrant numbers.

Also affecting my thinking is a place: Nogales, Arizona, where a formidable wall divides the city from another part of the same community in Nogales, Sonora, Mexico. A military-like presence of towers, huge lights and guards is nearly inescapable on the American side. It’s a lovely town in its own character-filled way, though not wealthy. The people seem friendly and cheerful. The tacos are awesome. The water, drinkable.

The day I visited, Mexican children stuck their smiling faces between the rusty steel beams of the wall, hoping for any reaction from those nearby. In the evening, young people sat on each side conversing. Traffic moved steadily through the one border crossing, a gateway between nations but a single road connecting an oddly divided community.

The wall continued forever in both directions through the desert, over the scrubby hills and down the grassy valleys.

I know some of the reasons for trying to “protect” the nation’s borders this way, but soon after I reached that wall I found myself praying for its destruction. It was like a subconscious reaction. The wall is so wrong, so anti-community, so anti-peace. I envisioned the city with a linear park, instead, along the border – a wavy pathway meandering both sides where children could run along and shout, “I’m in America! I’m in Mexico! I’m in America! I’m in Mexico!”

I envisioned the grey-green desert without its current blockade, where wildlife could move freely to maintain healthy ecosystems.

And I envisioned border residents moving more freely, as I assume they did before the wall went up. (I learned of ranchers unable to hunt now and homes stuck south of the wall but in the U.S.!)

communion served by Southwest Conference Minister Rev. Dr. Bill Lyons at the border immersion and Convergence eventsDespite the wall’s imposition, it doesn’t work well. Yes, it does keep many people out. Illegal crossings are way down after many controls – sensors, more guards, more walls, etc. – were added in the past 10 years. But many people still make it to America. Drugs are transported. Human trafficking continues.

The wall fails to promote any American value, such as freedom, human dignity, equality, inalienable rights. We’ve spent $132 billion on securing the Mexican border the past decade to promote a rigid idea of security and have not addressed the reasons people are willing to leave their families and homes, risk arrest, risk dehydration and heat exhaustion and live in practical hiding in a foreign country. The security efforts have led to about 200 deaths per year in the desert. Others live in fear and are unable to reach their potential as a person because of the deportation risk.

Congress even waived 37 laws so contractors could extend the wall without pesky hindrances such as protecting water, respecting land rights and saving archaeological sites.

Could some of that $132 billion have been better spent to solve the root problems? Peace-making and true problem-solving require creative minds.

I learned last weekend about the sanctuary movement. Similar to the Underground Railroad from slavery days, it helps desperate people find work and shelter. Sometimes it helps them get to Canada, where they can live more freely. Churches, colleges and even entire cities take part. There is nothing illegal about these activities. We have come a long way from the Fugitive Slave Act.

I learned of other creative efforts to help our neighbors in need, or “the least of these.” These efforts contrast with actions like sending undocumented immigrants caught in domestic disputes to a land they barely know anymore, and taking young men caught in drug offenses to the border and ordering them to cross over where drug workers will seize upon their vulnerability. I learned of one deported man who didn’t even speak Spanish – his parents had failed to do the paperwork when he was little, and now a crime that would land a fine for most resulted in banishment from his homeland.

“Pax” and “esperanza,” someone painted on a wooden cross that activists tied to the wall. Peace and hope. There is much hope for change. Even when we can’t seem to get away from the word “illegals,” as if a human being can be reduced in such a way, a movement is stirring to preserve dignity and to challenge the powers that be to act more humanely and morally responsible.

featured image courtesy of  ©2016ScottGriessel/Creatista

The Good Stuff

guest post by Owen Chandler

[Editor’s note: Rev. Owen Chandler, the Senior Minister of Saguaro Christian Church (Disciples of Christ) in Tucson, was deployed earlier this year from the Army Reserve and serves as Battalion Chaplain of the 336th CCSB in Iraq. He writes  monthly letters to his home church, and is graciously open to sharing them here on the SWC Blog. This is his August letter.]

Beloved Saguaro,

As I sit to write these words, I am literally snacking on the goodness of your love and continued prayers. In fact, I can turn in my chair and see office after office sharing in your support. 

first care package at Camp Taji
This is from the first of your care packages that came in to us. As you can see, it was a hit. This is my Battallion Commando and XO.

We’ve never received a care package load so concentrated with “the good stuff”. A few of the soldiers have “lovingly” taken to calling me Taji Santa because of the items you sent. They thought they were pretty clever until they saw me writing in my notebook. “What are you writing?” they asked. I replied, “The names of soldiers who may be worthy of God’s love but who won’t be receiving any more Oreos.”

Please know that I am doing well. July was a very difficult month for a variety of reasons, some of which I expressed in my last letter. Luckily, the rest of the month passed without witnessing any battle-related incidents. The good news: ISIS continues to be pushed back and they find themselves having to reevaluate their strategies. This is a significant morale boost to the Iraqi people even as it adds new political wrinkles from the power void which ISIS’s departure creates. News like this dramatically helps with our morale, as well.

It may seem trite; I traveled all over Iraq in July and saw some pretty crazy things, but nothing rattled me more than not being there for Harper’s first day of kindergarten. Seeing mothers and children being able to pick up the pieces of their lives in places like Fallujah help me and others keep focused during months like July.

I have spent the month of August, thus far, grounded to Camp Taji. Back in early June, I pitched an idea to a General about creating a streamlined concept in soldier care. It involved a stalled chapel renovation project. The Chaplain corps had hoped to update the chapel, but the General wanted a more comprehensive concept that fit the Army’s focus on supporting the soldier if the Army was going to spend any money. I put together some ideas and he gave me the green light.

move to interim chapel
The move to the interim chapel begins. We had soldiers from around the world help us. The entire move took less than an hour.

Two weeks ago, we moved the chapel to an interim location and construction began on the ‘Camp Taji Resiliency Center: Spirit, Mind, and Body’. The concept is to relocate the Chaplain, Behavioral Health, and elements of JAG into one place to foster a spirit of cooperation and unity of effort. An idea like that might seem self-evident, but it does not exist anywhere else in the military. (Apparently military bureaucracies don’t naturally like to share, even when there is an overlap of mission.) Subsequently, this is a first-of-its-kind endeavor. I won’t do much traveling until the construction is complete. We are expecting to have a big grand opening ceremony with generals, ribbon-cuttings, cake, and the military news people sometime in late September or early October. I am excited.

Friends, we are halfway done with our time in Iraq. Our replacements sent a scout team this week. It seems a bit surreal to think about the return journey. I give God thanks for you and pray for you each day. I hold you in my heart, knowing that I am one day closer to being back with you. May God continue to bless and keep you. Keep doing great ministry. Keep being people who dance within the joy of God’s love.

Until we meet again,

Owen

PS: I have never seen adults fall in love with a snack like they did with those SuperSeedz. If you find it in your heart, I’ve been told you can send as many of those treats as you like.

“Don’t Look at the Romanians!” How We Broke the Rules and the Tension at the 1984 Summer Olympics

guest post by Paul Whitlock, senior pastor at Church of the Palms, Sun City

The Olympics come to town in the summer every four years. This year, Rio de Janeiro is the town for the 2016 Summer Olympic games. With much of the world talking about the games, I wanted to share with you some of my memories of the Olympics.

Wendy and I were both fortunate enough to sing in the 1000-voice Olympic Choir that performed at the Opening Ceremonies of the 1984 games in Los Angeles. I remember that time so vividly. There were long practices and even longer lectures about appropriate behavior—that even a joke, if deemed inappropriate, would put us in trouble with security. In 1984, the Romanians had broken through the proverbial wall and didn’t follow Moscow’s lead to boycott the games. So, we were sternly lectured by security to leave the Romanians alone: “Don’t talk with, point at, or even look at the Romanians!” The organizers feared the worse during that Cold War era. And yes, told us that our actions could lead to WWIII!

On the day of the Opening Ceremonies, all of the athletes from around the world, including the Romanians, and the performers for the Opening Ceremonies were packed into the L.A. Sports Arena (which was a fairly small basketball arena). The tension right before ceremonies started was intense! There was an eerie silence. Here were twelve thousand or so people utterly quiet.

Then suddenly, one of the American athletes pulled out a beach ball, blew it up, and the Americans began hitting it up into the air. Security tried to confiscate it but as soon as they would catch up to it, another beach ball came out and then another and another. The organizers had thought of a lot of scenarios, but the silliness of the American spirit was not one of them!

Amazingly, one of the beach balls kept bouncing around the arena—going from country to country. Soon, it was an unstated goal to get that beach ball around the world. The American athletes were on the ground floor of the arena and they hit it up to the next level. That group sent it flying to the next country. With every flight of the ball, people erupted into laughter and “oooohs” and “ahhhhs”. As the beach ball would reach the next country, that group would come alive with excitement. The silence that had been palpable was replaced with sheer joy. And one beach ball made it around the free world despite the organizers’ attempts to stop it.

The Romanian athletes were sheltered far away from all the others and were the only group on the top level of the arena. While their athletes smiled—I had been a rebel and looked at them— the joy was restrained. The Romanian coaches and officials accompanying the athletes sat, for the most part, with their arms crossed, lips pressed together, and their faces reflecting their disgust at all the events.

Making the beach ball travel around the free world was clearly not enough for all of us assembled that day. That beach ball had to make it through the wall of ideology, past the security forces, and reach the Romanians. Anything else would be disastrous. It came close several times, but it kept falling short. It seemed impossible for anyone, even the best athletes the world could offer, to hit the ball high enough to penetrate the citadel erected around the Romanians.

When hope was almost lost, one athlete from a country of unknown origin, in the section right below the Romanians, hit the beach ball high and far. “This one,” I thought, “has a chance.” The long arms of security reached up from the walkway between sections and appeared to intercept it. Just then, one of the athletes from Romania reach down and tipped the beach ball away from security into the section where the Romanians sat. The whole arena stood and a thunderous applause erupted as the Romanians bounced the ball back and forth. Once security realized the futility of trying to stop the wave of emotion, the ball bounced to the Romanians several more times.

Later, during the actual Opening Ceremonies, with a few other rebels, I ran past the security guards, leapt a fence, and ran on to the field and danced with the athletes assembled. I danced with the people from Iraq and Italy. We celebrated the spirit of oneness that we had. Because, at that moment, it didn’t matter what politicians from our respective homelands did or didn’t do. We knew the world was one.

Fast-forward 32 years and now I am troubled by the expense of the Olympics; each host country builds massive stadiums which soon will be abandoned while the poor remain hungry. Indeed, recent history indicates that the International Olympic Committee, known for receiving bribes, favors countries with dictators because they can get what they want: a smoothly run competition where any dissenting voice is locked up or simply disappears never to return. Olympic spirit has been replaced with greed and scandal, all at the expense of the poor. And, for the first time in my life, I ask, is it time to end the charade? Have the Olympics run their course? Time will tell. Meanwhile, the poor in Rio de Janeiro cry out. Who will hear them as the world leaves town?

Speaking Truth is a Duty

guest post by Kay Huggins, Interim Executive Director, New Mexico Conference of Churches

I’ve been speaking with pastors over the past two months and although I have 5 specific questions, the content of these conversations is deep and wide. A few themes are emerging:

Hope: I anticipated hearing at least a few complaints, but frankly, there have been precious few. Most pastors experience great satisfaction and joy in their callings; some feel overwhelmed; but, rarely is heard a discouraging word. Moreover, the sense of hope is linked to growth among the members and leaders of the churches: new ideas, new visions, new challenges and new opportunities are combining to create new steps for Jesus’ followers.

Relationships: Every pastor, at some point and always in a unique manner, identified ministry as grounded in strong relationships: with family, colleagues, members, neighbors, and friends. Moreover, all affirmed that their effectiveness in ministry is directly related to these relationships. Most spend time and energy being with others — so that together, they will be strong for doing the ministries entrusted to them.

Speaking out…together: This theme included a bit of sadness and/or frustration. Almost every pastor interviewed expressed a passion for speaking the truth of our Christian values and convictions in a bold and free way; but also expressed was the persistent awareness that in our culture, the voice of many churches is inaudible. The “Christian voice” has been kidnapped by evangelical or conservative churches and the progressive or socially engaged churches have been put on mute. The pastors I interviewed longed for to speak out, together, and be heard.

In these days of political turmoil and distress, the voice of the silenced progressive, socially engaged and liberal Christian churches is needed. A very helpful article, “Unprohibited speech“, Christian Century, July 20, 2016 reminds:

“There’s no law against religious leaders speaking and living out the truths of their faith…What (by law) is prohibited is an explicit endorsement of a candidate.”

This is followed by a stirring string of strong words churches may speak.

“Churches are free to say that a candidate who threatens opponents with violence is undermining the basis of community.

They are free to say that a candidate who targets people of one religion for discriminatory treatment is attacking the basis of everyone’s religious freedom.

They are free to say that campaigning by name-calling and personal insult is an affront to reason.

And they are free to say that a candidate who sneers at the disabled, ridicules people because of their appearance, and promises to engage in torture fails to understand that all humans are made in the image of God.”

Dear ecumenical community, we are old and young, rich and poor, Protestant and Roman Catholics living in New Mexico; let us speak up as individuals, as church leaders, as congregations, as an ecumenical community of believers. Let us claim the freedom we have to lift up our distinct and deep Christian values…especially within the current political context.

Share with me your statements and I will share them with the ecumenical community of the New Mexico Conference of Churches.

I remain, steadfastly, Kay Huggins, Interim Executive Director.

Living in Hope with Polycythemia Vera

by James Briney

An elderly monk told me that faith is a gift.  That explanation satisfied my curiosity about why he became a monk.  This made sense to me, given his history as a grizzled mountain man, who had been recruited off a barstool in Montana, by an Anglican bishop.  The encounter may have been random, but it changed his life.  Polycythemia vera (PV) is a gift because it reminds us of our own mortality.  Currently PV can be treated but not cured.  With rare exception perhaps, there is no remission.  I think of PV as relatively subtle and relentless.  A similar disease took the life of my youngest sister.

A gift is something that is given to us.  Although there is no definitive evidence that my disease came to me genetically, there is a familial cluster that may be random.  My primary care physician suspected my condition on the basis of a routine blood test, that was confirmed by an oncologist.  Within days, I was accepted as a patient by the hematologist who is treating me.  Upon first acquaintance he began appropriate therapies immediately.  That was in 2009.  The reality is that without treatment I may have been dead within 18 months, so I am thankful for the timely diagnosis.

A gift may be played with as an amusement or be of some practical use.  Polycythemia vera is not a playful distraction, but the treatment does require toying with available therapies to keep it at bay.  At the onset of my diagnosis, I felt like I would die within three weeks if I went to bed and pulled the covers over my head.  Until then I had known there was something wrong with me, but I did not know what it was.  My balance, vision and mental acuity were off.  A few months before the first inkling of the diagnosis, I fell down three times in the course of running bases during a softball game.  I dismissed that as being clumsy and out of practice.  It turns out that I had blacked out each time.

When people who know that I am sick tell me I look good, I say this disease does not make a person look bad, it just kills us through an increased risk for heart attack or stroke.  I had a stroke on April 3rd of 2013.  I was not able to speak and my left cheek was droopy.  In the midst of all sorts of tests and evaluations the condition resolved itself.  The miracle is that my wife and the congregation I serve are glad I can talk again.  To avoid speculation and rumors I promised all concerned that I would provide updates, as information about my health is made known to me.

Well into the first three years of chemotherapy injections, and the occasional phlebotomy, I shared with a study group that the drugs I am using have been known to stop working after a couple of years, and that my bone marrow could stop making red cells altogether, instead of too many.  There was a gasp, followed by a woman asking me what I would do if this happened to me.  I said I was thinking about staying limber so I could bend over and hug my behind goodbye. Humor is one way for us to keep from becoming black holes of concern.  We can take the edge off with candid humor that is not coated in denial and by listening to the specific vulnerabilities of the people we know.

The flip side of humor, or a shocking smart remark, is pondering that we are connected with everyone who is dealing with something.  I believe there is more to life than life itself and that life is a journey for the soul.  There are more dimensions than meet the eye.  Prayerful contemplation of quantum and cosmic consciousness is fun.  We benefit when we do not squander our opportunities to engage serious thought in conversation.  It is not useful to give in to fear.  That’s why the gospel invites us to love with all of our minds and all of our hearts, no matter what is happening to our bodies.

Each time there has been a new development in the progress of my disease, I have embraced it as an opportunity to evaluate my priorities.  When I was diagnosed, I decided to do what my doctor advised.  I considered how I was living my life within my means and realized that I had no interest in creating a bucket list.  Instead, I resolved to stay the course I was on by earning, saving, investing and serving.  A difference is that I have become steadfast and intentional about doing such things for others.

Our disease can be liberating.  It gives us a certain focus attached to the perspective that we are not going to live forever; while having clarity and sufficient energy to endure.  That is a gift because it provides us with the choice not to succumb to despair.  We contemplate the eventuality of our own death.  Our doctors think about helping all of us.  I have thought about what it is like for them to lose patients over time as they participate in research and await trials that are apt to hold the key to a variety of cures.  I figure if the scientists and medical professionals can work and live in hope, then so can we.

I do not think of myself as battling cancer.  I think of myself as living longer and feeling better than I would have without treatment.  None of this has to be experienced as a struggle.  It just is what it is.  Faith and belief are not the same things as proof and knowledge.  Yet I believe the very same answers formed in discovery and discernment will satisfy both scientists and theologians.  When I am offered unsolicited advice about diet and homeopathic remedies by well-meaning individuals, I thank them and say that I am open to such things.  Also that I have a doctor who cares about me and that I am sticking with his protocols.

Whatever your faith may be, and whether it is weak, strong or absent, it makes sense for us to participate in our own well-being by keeping fit, and leaving room for the spirit within us that is holy.  When I think about what our doctors are doing for us, I am reminded that Jesus was not being modest when he said: ‘You will do greater things than I.’  At a genetic and cellular level all sorts of things are being surmised and explored in laboratories.  Some of my hope lies with the professionals who are not driven by profit and personal gain.  My doctor could have made more money, and had an easier time of it, had he not been called to serve his patients.  Luckily for me, he decided not to pursue another passion.  When I was wondering what may be next for me, he said: ‘I will see that you get what you need, my friend.’

I had named my youngest sister, taught her to read, and saw that she was able to go to college.  Long before I was diagnosed, I was the donor for her bone marrow transplant. When she died in the wee hours of the morning, I stepped onto the porch of her modest house on a tree-lined street.  Quietly, as her body was taken away, I looked to an ambiguous sky, and said: ‘Okay, God. Whatever else you have for me, bring it on.’  That was not a dare, merely a realization that I could not imagine anything that would be more painful for me to bear.  This is easy, this disease of mine.

Our challenge is to not become complacent or to take for granted what others are doing to be thoughtful and supportive of us.  My wife has been there for me every step of the way.  The pathway to ultimate success in terms of research, remission, and cure is permeated with a sense of transitory discouragement.  What difference does it make?  Will it make a difference in our lifetime?  Recognizing the value of advances in medicine that may be helpful to another human being is a consideration.  But in terms of self-awareness and self- interest, it is important to see there is hope in being alive longer than we might have been otherwise.  And there is hope in knowing the effort is being made to provide us with therapies that are available.

I take no satisfaction in being aware that there are people in the world with our disease who have not been diagnosed.  But knowing that I could be collapsed in an alley from fatigue, or on the streets of a village, town or city, with flies buzzing around, and people stepping over me, helps me to embrace my own situation.  I am mindful that I am living in the comfort of my own home and being cared for by a doctor who has the capacity to persevere.  That’s a big part of what I think faith is about.  In the face of challenges and in the context of uncertainty we do what we are able to do, especially when we do not know what is yet to come.

The probability that I would be diagnosed soon after my doctor moved his practice from Minnesota to Arizona is about as remote as the mountain man advised by a bishop to become a monk.  As rare as our disease is, we are not alone.  I have taken in stride the latest development that my bone marrow indicates progression and that the treatment for me remains the same.  Jesus died not knowing if his life and sacrifice had been worth it.  He drew his last breath thinking he had been forsaken by God and abandoned by the people closest to him.  Because we have doctors who care for us we have not been abandoned.  Because our doctors have hope we have not been forsaken.

******* 

Rev. James Briney is the pastor and teacher for the members and friends of Oro Valley United Church Of Christ in Arizona; having served congregations in Goshen, Indiana; Luzerne, Michigan; and Medford, Wisconsin. He has earned degrees in Philosophy and Theology and has held positions of responsibility and authority in the public sector, the private sector, and the church. He has run and won 24 come-from-behind issues and candidate campaigns by relying on reason, information, and facts in an atmosphere of good faith. In 1999, 2003, and 2013, Jim established funds with community foundations to promote integrity and excellence. Dr. Ruben A. Mesa suggested that he write something for patients with polycythemia vera and the doctors who are treating them.

A Minister’s Empathy: A Perplexing Tool to Bring to a Combat Theater

guest post by Owen Chandler

[Editor’s note: Rev. Owen Chandler, the Senior Minister of Saguaro Christian Church (Disciples of Christ) in Tucson, was deployed earlier this year from the Army Reserve and serves as Battalion Chaplain of the 336th CCSB in Iraq. He frequently writes letters to his home church, and is graciously open to sharing them here on the SWC Blog. This is his July letter.]

Beloved Saguaro,

My prayers and these words travel to meet you with the speed of God’s love. I miss you so. We are nearing the halfway mark and my affection for you remains unchanged. I am grateful for your continued prayers, letters, and packages. I am thankful you continue to grow stronger in your fulfillment of the vision that God placed on your hearts. That strength is contagious. It helps me when I have days here that leave me questioning the nature of my Call and the power of God’s peace.

The last few weeks were challenging in ways needed, unfortunate, and unwelcome. I spent most of the time traveling to a distant outpost. We have soldiers there that help with the supply and sustainment functions of the war effort. Nestled just behind the front lines of Fallujah, I experienced my first combat landing! This is where the plane does a corkscrew maneuver to land – and to think i was sad because I didn’t think I was going to get to ride any roller coasters this summer!

Amazingly, there in one of the austere environments we operate, I met another DOC [Disciples of Christ] chaplain, CH (MAJ) Fisher. I am biased, but i think the DOC develops some of the best ministers. After a week with CH Fisher, I am further convinced that we produce some of the best chaplains. The week I spent with him was like drinking from the font of military chaplaincy wisdom. The guy is the real deal. The soldiers there knew it, too. I watched him engage with the lowest private to the highest colonel. Each soldier left feeling affirmed by the grace of our Lord. I pray that one day I can operate with such skill.

It was fortunate that CH Fisher was there. I was able to process with him one of my most difficult moments of the deployment. As I stated, this outpost held close proximity to Fallujah, during the last days of the battle to retake the city. Each morning I awoke to the sound of cannons firing on the city. I guess you get used to them after a while, but not after only a week. Each day the sounds of war acted as the soundtrack to life on the post. At night, you could see the outskirts of the city due to the distant flashes of bombs and tracer rounds. Day after day, one would read about the desperation of the civilian population being used as shields by ISIS. I saw the faces of Saguaro in those trapped in Fallujah. They were the normal people without the means and connections to escape. My adrenaline pumped with the rage I felt at the evil of ISIS. How could one group be so depraved?

During my time there, the news stated that the battle was over. ISIS was defeated. One night, I was playing basketball with the Navy Seal team located there. In between games, they indicated the last remnants of the opposition were attempting to flee by a large caravan. The Iraqi Army had blocked their exit and there was this weird stalemate occurring just a few short miles from where I was playing. That night I stood on the flight line trying to talk my way onto a flight back to Taji. I was unsuccessful. There, under a darkened night sky, I looked to my left. Where there were once just stars, the sky illuminated, and the bowels of American military might were dropped onto the stalled ISIS fighters. And just like that, it was over; hundreds of lives gone.

It is a strange mix of emotions watching a scene like that. A minister’s empathy is a perplexing tool to bring to a combat theater. To be sure, I find assurance that those ISIS fighters are gone. I don’t understand the evil that drives them. As I told Emily before leaving for this deployment, I do not want my children to have to fight this battle. The effort to retake Fallujah is one more step closer to that reality. The event left me struggling with two issues. To start, I am uncomfortable with the anger I felt towards our enemy. Christ’s words to love our enemies stand before me like a test that I know I just failed. I guess the other thing that gets me is how complete, effective, and devastating our tools of war are in this world. We have spent so much money, intellectual effort, and time perfecting war. I wonder what would happen if we spent equal amounts of such trying to understand peace. Would our efforts be as complete, effective, and uplifting? These are the questions I spent the next few days discussing with CH Fisher. I am thankful for the honesty of these conversations and questions. I imagine I will be discussing these things within my soul for some time to come.

These may be thoughts born of war, but my news feed tells me that maybe they are questions which we should be entertaining back stateside, too. I wish I had something profound to tell you. I am sure that the wisdom of Bill Robey has been a steadying presence in your times of worship as of late. I only have this prayer I wrote in my journal which is growing out of this war:

[with respect to war, fear, and rage] We don’t accept it. We don’t lose heart. We act in love and love alone. We are created in God’s image and this means something. The resurrection is a shared reality that our hands and feet help recreate each day. That is our job. That is our calling. War may surround us. Death may try to overtake us. Revenge and rage may try to seduce us, but these don’t strengthen our souls. Live and pray with courage. If we don’t do it, then who will?

I apologize for the heaviness of this letter. I am fine. I am safe. I am loved. I’ve attached photos to try to show you that I’m still smiling and bringing smiles to the hearts of others.

Until we meet again,

Owen

taji combat cigar club patch
The Australians welcomed me into their special club. I tell them funny stories about roadrunners and coyotes, and they tell me similar stories about kangaroos and Tasmanian devils.

 

Owen's tiny purple heart
Tall people problems: I ran into an air conditioner. The unit made this for me.

 

fire engine
I got a new coffee pot. Fifteen minutes later I got to meet the fire department. Luckily I have experience with small kitchen fires.

 

Owen Chandler with Jonathan Fisher
I was honored to meet and learn from another DOC chaplain. Our denomination represents maybe 2% of military chaplaincy, yet in OIR we make up about 30%!

 

shrapnel extracted from soldiers
The surgeons of one of our outpost showed me some of the shrapnel he extracted from soldiers over the last month.

 

drone tour
I am being given a tour of the drones (UVA). I tried to get them to let me fly it but they kept droning on about cost and liability.

 

Kat Perkins with Owen Chandler
Kat Perkins (finalist on the Voice) was great. She asked if I knew her. I told her, “Unless you were on Daniel Tiger or some other cartoon, there’s a good chance I have no clue who you are. I have kids!”

 

Finally, here is a link to the story I referenced in my letter. Thought you might be interested.

Inside look at US-led coalition’s deadliest single attack on Islamic State

Camels, Care Packages, and Transitions

guest post by Owen Chandler

[Editor’s note: Rev. Owen Chandler, the Senior Minister of Saguaro Christian Church (Disciples of Christ) in Tucson, was deployed earlier this year from the Army Reserve and serves as Battalion Chaplain of the 336th CCSB in Iraq. He frequently writes letters to his home church, and is graciously open to sharing them here on the SWC Blog.

The letter below originally appeared in the May 6 newsletter from his church.]

Beloved Saguaro Christian Church,

It is amazing, really, I am half a world away – surrounded by herds of camels and the dirtiest desert imaginable – and yet my prayers yearn for each of you. I miss you. I miss the joy you embody in your times of worship and service. I give God gratitude for the ways in which the Spirit leads you. I know that the transitions of the church continue. Stay strong. With love, be sure to express your thankfulness for the ministries of Shelly Tilton and Gary Straub and be sure to welcome, again, the pastoral leadership of Bill Robey.

Transitions seem to be a sign of the season. I am about to embark on a new one myself. Our battalion was called to a different mission and in a precarious place. I am giving up my residence in Kuwait. Soon, I will try to make a home close behind the ambiguous front-lines of Iraq. If you can follow the news lately, then you can probably guess where I am headed. I cannot tell you specifically where I will be or what I will be doing, but I ask for your prayers. I’m not scared. I thought I might be, but I’m not. I know that I will be safe. It is a strange feeling. I am trusting. I am trusting that the God that called me into the middle of this mess will not leave my side as I go to minister to all the soldiers under my care as they prepare to do dangerous work within dangerous places. Please pray for my soldiers and our leadership. The game has changed; it is no longer a game.

Thank you as always for your mail and email! The care packages build up the mood of this chaplain and our soldiers. Typically, I share some of the contents with the soldiers in need of care. I show them the box and I tell them to pick out what they want. For the ones that steal my chocolate, I wait until they have taken a bite, and then I say, “That was my favorite piece that I specifically asked for.” And then I walk off. Another senior officer said the other day as I was opening a box, “I wish people loved me as much!” I smiled, threw him a package of nuts and told him, “Honestly, you need to stop whining!” I have a good time here.

Thank you also for the way you continue to love my family. I cannot tell you how much that means to me. I keep thinking that this deployment cannot get any harder on them and then stuff like this happens. Give them hugs for me. They are changing so fast.

May God bless you now and always.

Until we meet again,

Owen

P.S. The camels of Kuwait are whimsically perfect. I definitely think that we should put in for a Brady Grant for one. I am sure if we are real nice, then maybe Bill and KC Estes will let us keep it at their place.

owen may pix 1 owen may pix 2 owen may pix 3 owen may pix 4 owen may pix 5 owen may pix 6 owen may pix 7 owen may pix 8 owen may pix 9 owen may pix 9a owen may pix 9b

Greetings from Camp Taji

guest post by Owen Chandler

(Editor’s note: Rev. Owen Chandler, the Senior Minister of Saguaro Christian Church (Disciples of Christ) in Tucson, was deployed earlier this year from the Army Reserve, serving as Battalion Chaplain of the 336th CCSB in Iraq. He frequently writes letters to his home church, and is graciously open to sharing them here on the SWC Blog.

This letter originally appeared in his church’s June 14 newsletter.)

Beloved Saguaro Christian Church,

I send my greetings and prayers to you from Iraq! As always, I give God gratitude for your continued presence in my life. The fact that you make the intentional effort to remember me speaks of your character. It would be easy to merely move on with your lives, but you choose to value our relationship. I am grateful.

Iraq is a tragic blend of the historical wonder and brutal death. Fittingly, I arrived in the country on Friday the 13th. Hopefully it is not a metaphor for things to come. This country has much to offer and appreciate. Baghdad, over which I recently flew in an open helicopter, is a desert oasis along the river with green palm trees mingling among ancient domes and modern architecture. The war has clearly taken its toll on the landscape and the people. Currently, I am outside of the capitol in an outlying town, Taji. Our post is the former home of Chemical Ali’s weapon manufacturing plant and depot. I try not to breathe in too deep! It turns out that Taji looks and feels much like Casa Grande. Who knew that those Regional meetings in that dusty outpost would prepare me for this deployment?!?!?

As seems to be the reoccurring theme of this deployment, my role and duties changed on the flight up here. In addition to my duties as the battalion chaplain of the 336th CSSB, I am now the Camp Taji lead chaplain of all US and international military personnel. I have a couple of other chaplains that work under me. We are it for the whole camp. Essentially, I serve as senior minister of the camp chapel, help with chaplain support for thousands of military personnel, cover an outlying FOB, and make occasional visits to other FOBs that the 336th supports. To top it off, I am having to oversee the chapel reconstruction here on camp, which means regular briefs of generals and numerous meetings with contractors. The days are going much faster! The work is immensely meaningful and I pray that we are making an actual difference. I have attached some photos so you can get a feel for what my life looks like these days. Please know that I am reasonably safe.

I miss you all. I know the summer is upon you, church camps are going, and that your ministry continues to be authentically beautiful. I count down the days until we are sharing in these things together. May God bless your time with interim Bill Robey. Try to be merciful to him as his baseball team doesn’t appear to be doing much this year. I love you all.

Peace,

Owen Chandler

Innovation Lab Making an Impact

guest post by Rev. Sue Joiner

Note by Kenneth McIntosh, Church Growth and Renewal Coordinator for SWC:

“Last October, Sue Joiner and Ann Marie Stranger from First Congregational Albuquerque participated in the Innovation Lab Workshop held at the SWC office in Phoenix and led by Rebecca Glenn. They have attended video conference coaching group meetings in the months since then, and have facilitated an exciting process of innovation and healthy changes at their church. Enjoy this article, be inspired by some of these ideas, and remember that there are still openings for the Innovation Lab Workshop round #2 happening this fall.”

We began our process with a team of a dozen leaders in January. We were inspired by the Innovation Lab technique of experimentation, deep listening, prototyping and learning as we go. We interviewed people about the church to hear what their deep hungers were. The theme that was repeated the most was connection. Then we created a survey to help assess what would most meet that need for connection. We gathered to assimilate the information and discovered some themes:

There is a longing for meaningful relationships and we are addressing that by creating opportunities for people to get to know each other. We did a Lenten series using the book Learning to Fall: The Blessings of an Imperfect Life by Philip Simmons. We had four groups meeting at different times and places over a six week period. These were so well-received that we are doing three groups this summer – one group is reading a collection of short stories set in New Mexico, another is reading the book Being Mortal, and a third will gather later this summer to read plays and look at the themes as they relate to our lives. Our Green Justice team is sponsoring a dinner and movie discussion to explore food justice issues in more depth.

We talked about connecting in worship. We have found ways to integrate children in worship and relocated our children’s corner to give children better access to their own resources. We have added some visual arts for Easter and Pentecost. We did a community Candlelight Memorial Service for the victims of the Orlando shooting. Our sanctuary is now 100% LED lighting (a result of the Green Justice committee and our commitment to making the space more welcoming).

We are looking at our building as a resource and seeking to make it friendlier. We put rainbow doors on Lomas (a major street outside our church) that say, “God’s doors are open to all”. We want to do more with the inside of the building. We are committed to a master plan for the building. We have a trainer and opened a fitness room in our basement that is open to the community.

We became a Green Justice Congregation on May 22 so we are finding new ways to live out this commitment.

We are planning to send care packages to any UCC student at University of New Mexico (we are counting on churches to send us the names of students who are coming to school here).

We are committed to finding new ways to make our building and our community a place of connection. We are finding new ways to get the word out about our extravagant welcome. We are committed to the whole person and to a welcome that is long lasting.