Southwest Conference Blog

A Prayer for Today

by Rev. Lynne Hinton

God, the Great Creator, You may know the plans for us but we do not. We try to focus on what you have done throughout history. How you have brought us strength and courage for the difficult times, how you have been present to us, faithful throughout all our wars and battles, a mother hen, a shepherd, a pillar of cloud by day and a pillar of fire at night; but being completely honest, Holy One, it is hard to think of a future with anything but sorrow. The fights between enemies seem long and never-ending. The struggles feel complicated and rife with old pain. The weapons are deadlier, the costs higher, the consequences more dire.

We cry out for peace. We beg for the harm to cease. We pray. We light candles. We preach. We prophesy. We reach out. We weep. And we look ahead to the days before us, the tanks along the border, the rockets filling the skies, the anger growing, the death count rising, the blame shifting; and we imagine the worst. We fear what we will now ultimately and finally do to each other.

On this day we pray for those most affected by the violence. We pray for the children hiding in fear, the grieving mothers, the old ones begging to die, the young vowing revenge. We pray for the leaders of all nations to be wise and guided by courage and humility. We pray for those trying to breach the gap between those who hate each other. We pray that people of all faiths and those without, for people across the world, different and yet the same, for all of your children to see this as an opportunity to come together and say, “Let us begin again. Let us stop the killing, the destruction. Let us find a way to peace. Let us believe in a future with hope.”

Merciful God, help us to stop the violence building in our hearts, to see goodness in each other even when it seems impossible. Help us to put down our weapons and words of hatefulness and anger and pick up bread to share with the ones before us. Help us to open our clenched fists and receive your blessings that await us when we surrender. Help us to release the despair and have our hearts filled with hope. For today. For tomorrow. For a future we all desire. We look to you, The One Great Source of Love.

Amen.

Recycling Old Blood

by Rev. John Indermark, written the day before the Hamas attack on Israel, and the crisis that has resulted

After Pilate attempted to deny his responsibility for putting Jesus to death, Matthew 27:25 records this: “Then the people as a whole answered, His blood be on us and on our children!” No other gospel records those words, only Matthew. But whatever reasons may have first led to their inclusion in Matthew and nowhere else, those words spawned disastrous consequences in the wholesale smearing of Jews as Christ-killers and the rise of anti-Semitism.

The history of the Church’s active role in promoting anti-Semitism goes back at least to the time of the Crusades, when several massacres of Jews took place not in the battlegrounds of the Holy Land but in the homelands of Germany and France. While we may delight to the music of Fiddler on the Roof, its historical setting involved the violent pogroms that victimized Jewish communities in Eastern Europe and Russia. In the background of all these and other persecutions was a twisted lie known as “blood libel” – the claim that Christian boys were slaughtered so their blood could be used in secret Jewish rituals. Too often, the Church kept silent in the face of the lie – or worse yet, promoted it.

The power of that lie, and its association with “blood,” infested 20^th century fascism. In 1930, the same year he joined the Nazi party in Germany, Richard Darre wrote a book whose title in English is A New Nobility Based on Blood and Soil. Darre, whose field was agriculture and eugenics, argued in it for a program of selective breeding (the blood part of the title) to insure Nordic and Aryan racial purity. And once again, except for the courageous witness of a small Christian movement known as the Confessing Church, much of the rest of the Church remained silent as Aryan purity transitioned from far-fetched ideas into concentration camps not only for Jews, but also for others deemed unfit – Gypsies, Gays, Slavs, the infirm, Bonhoeffer.

So why bring this up in a 21^st century church newsletter? The leading presidential candidate for one of our nation’s parties made the following statement this week about migrants and immigration: “It is a very sad thing for our country. It’s poisoning the blood of our country.” Sound familiar? It is not an accident, and it is deadly serious.

Poisoning the blood. Its origins in anti-Semitism stretch now to include whoever is the stranger, the other, the outsider. We have seen its results before. In the past, too often, the Church has stood silent in such times, and the world suffered. We cannot do so again. Never again.

A Teacher of Faith

by Rev. Lynne Hinton

Like many of the hospice patients I served, this one became my teacher. He was a composer, author, philosopher, and artist. He also happened to have ALS. After receiving that diagnosis, he lost the use of his arms and hands. This meant that he could no longer express himself in the creative ways familiar to him. He also lost much of his ability to speak. Every word required great effort until finally, after an hour of conversation about saints and mystics, the stories he was convinced I needed to learn, he stopped talking. “I’m tired,” he would say, and so, we would turn to silence.

My teacher didn’t have a plan for what he was going to do when his disease progressed. This frustrated a lot of people. And if I’m honest, there were times when I wished he could tell me that he had a place to go, money to spend, or a reliable person to take care of him. But this was not his way. This had never been his way. “The things I need, the people I need, they all show up when I need them,” he kept reminding me, and as hard as it was not to ask for proof, I believed him. This is, after all, my understanding of the very essence of faith. To believe in the unbelievable, to hope even when there is no clear reason to do so, to trust that what we need will come to us in the time it is most needed.

In all the religious places and events where I have been and served, there are very few people I know who are actually living out that kind of faith. There are none that I know who follow the mandates of Jesus when he told his newly chosen disciples as they were going out, “take no gold, or silver, or copper in your belts, no bag for your journey, or two tunics or sandals or a staff.” All the good folks in my circles, myself included, carry at least one backpack on whatever mission trip we agree to. And most people don’t really believe that Jesus was talking to everyone when he said, “sell all your belongings and give the money to the poor.” I have found that most ministers have a little nest egg set aside for retirement. The truth is that many say they live by faith but very few test it like my teacher from years ago. And though some may have admired his lack of anxiety over having no resources, calling it faith, there were others who criticized him for his apathy, calling him lazy and irresponsible. Still, he upheld a set of values that many people claim to honor. He believed in what he could not see. He trusted that what he needed would come.

And in the end it did, in fact, work out for him. A week before he died, he hired caregivers from Craigslist; and they were there for him when he transitioned from this world to the next. With only knowing him a few days, they, like me, loved him instantly and surrounded him in the peaceful presence he was waiting for. They met all his needs.

It’s been a while since my teacher died, but I will never forget his lessons. I can only hope that one day what I learned from him will come true for me. What I need will arrive in just the time I need it; I simply must believe.

To be like those who dream

by Rev. Talitha Arnold, Senior Pastor, United Church of Santa Fe

When the Lord restored the fortunes of Zion,
we were like those who dream.
Then our mouth was filled with laughter,
and our tongue with shouts of joy.
Psalm 126:1-2

Every fall as I drive to work, I feel like those ancient Israelites, filled with laughter and shouts of joy. Why? Because of the bright yellow cowpen daisies that spring up in every nook and cranny, empty field and street divider around Santa Fe this time of year. How can we not be filled with joy and thanks for such beauty in unlikely places?

But the composer of Psalm 126 also knew life isn’t always so abundant. The Psalm was written for the children and grandchildren of the Israelites who managed to make it back from the devastating exile in Babylon. Behind the shouts of joy and laughter were years of hardship and uncertainty.

In 2005, the southwestern United States was in the tenth year of a devastating drought. The pinon trees that covered the hills throughout northern New Mexico were among the casualties of the dry times. Stressed by drought and susceptible to bark beetles, they died by the thousands. Once green landscapes turned brown and grey with dead trees. For longtime residents, it felt like a death in the family.

But in late August, it started to rain. Within days, fields of wildflowers sprang up. We couldn’t believe our eyes. Yellow cowpen daisies, purple asters, and rare flowers not seen in a century covered the land. Scientists observed that it wasn’t only the rain that produced the riot of color. The needles of the dead pinons had provided the mulch and nutrients needed by long-dormant seeds. The trees would never be restored, but their death gave birth to a new beauty as far as the eye could see.

“May those who sow with tears, reap with shouts of joy,” proclaimed the Psalmist. “Those who go out weeping shall come home with shouts of joy.” The preacher-composer reminded the people of God’s power to call forth new life—and joy—in even the driest and deadest of times. The psalmist also called them, and us, to be “like those who dream”—to trust God’s possibilities in the hard times of our lives, our communities, our families or this world.

Whether our hopes be a return from exile or acres of cowpen daisies and purple asters, may the God of power and possibility give us the courage to “be like those who dream.”

And . . . may we be open to possibilities already present.

The Power of Listening

How the simple act of listening furthers the creation of God’s beloved community

by Christopher Schouten, Black Mountain UCC

Though many of us (including me) have grown up and spent much of our lives around others that look and behave very much like we do, in our ever-diverse world, the tapestry of human experiences is intricate and varied in ways we sometimes can’t even imagine. As Christians, we are called to navigate this tapestry with love, grace, and a willingness to listen and learn. Indeed, the act of listening is at the heart of true understanding, especially when we are confronted with stories and realities that are different from our own.

The Bible emphasizes the importance of listening time and time again. James 1:19 reminds us, “Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry.” Proverbs 1:5 says, “Let the wise listen and add to their learning, and let the discerning get guidance.” The importance of these verses lies not just in the act of listening but in the transformative power it holds. Author Steven Covey said “Seek first to understand, then to be understood,” and this requires us to listen.

Especially in our diverse society, there are many situations in which we are called to listen.

Dialogues on racial justice demand our full attention and our ears. While the narratives of racial disparity and systemic injustice may be uncomfortable for many, listening to them is essential for fostering the change that brings equality to all God’s people. We must remember the parable of the Good Samaritan (Luke 10:25-37), a story that emphasizes the love for one’s neighbor, regardless of racial or cultural differences. By listening to the experiences of our Black, Asian, Indigenous, Pacific Islander and Latino brothers and sisters and allowing them to transform our understanding of unjust, structural racism in our society, we get closer to fulfilling Christ’s call to love unconditionally.

Genesis 1:27 tells us, “God created humankind in God’s own image.” This means that people of all genders reflect God’s image. Our society is rife with gender biases and rigid gender norms, often causing hurt and misunderstanding. To bridge the gap, it becomes imperative to listen to the experiences of people of all gender identities, acknowledging their pains, struggles, and victories, thus appreciating the full spectrum of God’s creation and helping us to grow into wholeness and community.

Heteronormativity, the belief that heterosexuality and everything that is associated with it is the norm, is another area where listening is crucial. Jesus, in Matthew 19:12, speaks of eunuchs who have become so from birth, created by men, and by choice, urging us to accept those for whom marriage, in the traditional sense, isn’t for them. The experiences and the lives of LGBTQ+ people are often very different from other people – often in ways that aren’t immediately visible. By listening to LGBTQ+ stories, we begin to see the breadth and depth of God’s creation and the different forms that love and family can take in the world.

The road to understanding is not always comfortable. There will be moments when the stories we hear will shake us, make us confront difficult personal material, or challenge our worldviews. But it is in these moments of discomfort that growth occurs. Christ, too, often found himself in uncomfortable situations, whether dining with tax collectors or speaking with Samaritan women. His example reminds us that transformation often begins at the edge of our comfort zones.

As members of the United Church of Christ, we have chosen to be a people that provide an extravagant welcome to all, as Christ did. In Romans 15:7, Paul urges, “Accept one another, then, just as Christ accepted you, in order to bring praise to God.” This acceptance starts with listening.

It is through the act of truly listening that we pave the way for understanding, empathy, and love. Let us commit ourselves to listen actively and then really HEAR what the other person is saying and let it impact our hearts, even when it challenges us. For it is through these challenges that we inch closer to a world that embodies Christ’s vision: a world filled with love, justice, acceptance, and unity; God’s beloved community.

The Power of the Float

by Rev. Lynne Hinton

One of my favorite activities is to float; but I find myself, especially in unfamiliar waters, not always able to let go and relax. I get anxious, worried about what might be beneath me or what might be coming my way; and when I do, it isn’t long before I began to sink.

Floating Takes Faith is the name of a book of essays written by Rabbi David Wolpe. In the essay with this title, Wolpe writes that even something as simple as honoring Shabbat can be hard. He writes that swimming requires us to kick, stroke, and move while floating asks us to be still, to trust the buoyancy of the water. In the ocean, he says, the swimmer propels his or her body under the wave but the floater rises on the crest. “Similarly, the one who works on himself or herself all week should aim to float on Shabbat. Floating will carry you higher than the often-strenuous effort of the week…Shabbat asks us to trust the wave of God’s world.”

Trusting the waves in an ocean is not always easy. Neither is always trusting God. Many times I’d prefer to swim over the choppy water, dive through the turbulence, not simply stretch out and ride it out. But faith requires us to believe in the goodness of God, to trust that even in the high or unsettled waters, we can look to God.

Dr. Jeremiah Wright tells the story of going out with his family on a boat for a day of deep sea fishing. After a couple of hours, he noticed that his eight year old daughter was missing. Frantically, they searched the boat only to find she was not anywhere on board. The crew finally decided that she must have fallen off the boat and the coast guard was called. Within minutes a rescue boat arrived. Dr. Wright joined the search crew and they began making concentric circles outward, with the charter boat as their center. The circles grew wider and wider, and then about 45 minutes after they started they spotted his daughter, lying on her back, bobbing in the water. When they got to her, they cut the engines off, and when they did, what they heard was this, an eight year old child singing a little song, floating on her back in the middle of the ocean, seemingly not even worried.

When they got to her in the boat, and after they knew she was all right, the captain asked Dr. Wright’s daughter what she thought about when she fell off the boat.

And she said, “Daddy always told me if I ever got in trouble when we were in the water, to just turn over on my back and float and to sing this song so I wouldn’t be afraid…’Jesus loves the little children, all the children of the world.’”

And the Captain said, “So you weren’t afraid?”

And she said, “I was a little, but I knew that Daddy would be looking out for me, and that he would come and get me as soon as he knew I was gone.”

Whatever waters you find yourself in this week, remember that you can trust that you are not alone, that you will not drown. And go ahead, lean into the waters, close your eyes. Float.

Standing on Their Shoulders

by The Reverend Dr. Kristina “Tina” Campbell, Black Mountain United Church of Christ

I am standing on the shoulders of the ones who came before me.

I am stronger for their courage, I am wiser for their words.

I am lifted by their longing for a fair and brighter future

I am grateful for their vision, for their toiling on this Earth.

-Joyce Rouse

Last weekend commemorated the sixtieth anniversary of the March on Washington where The Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. delivered his now famous “I Have a Dream” speech. Many of the organizers of the march were recognized and honored, and we had an opportunity to pause and ponder… upon whose shoulders do we stand?

I entered the ministry due to the influence of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. At the time his life was coming to a close, I was living in an all African American community as a VISTA (Volunteers in Service to America) volunteer. I clung to the words of Dr. King, and was utterly taken aback by the influence he had on the lives around me. He influenced people to be brave, to have hope, to take action, to live out their faith, to move beyond restriction into liberation. On the day of his death, I stood beside grown men who openly wept at the loss of this great soul. I wanted to stand on the shoulders of The Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.

When I first moved to Phoenix, I was looking for a church, and one of my colleagues at St. Luke’s Hospital said to me, “If you want to go where they’re doing something, go talk with Don Heinrich.” Don was the long time pastor at Shepherd of the Hills United Church of Christ, and Don was in the crowd in Washington, D.C. when Dr. King articulated his vision of a dream. Don carried the momentum of Dr. King’s dream in the Phoenix area. Don stood firmly on all social issues, but he did more than that. He suited up and he showed up for his congregation. He showed up to receive the Peggy Goldwater Award for Reproductive Rights, and he also showed to hand wash dishes at my father’s memorial service. I stand on Don’s shoulders.

All of us stand on the shoulders of those who lived before us, who dreamed before us, who put their faith into action. God has blessed our lives with great souls upon whose shoulders we stand. Thanks be to God.

The Little Church That Could

by Rev. Tina Campbell

I told them I wasn’t a parish pastor. My first gig was on the streets of the Southside of Chicago and I did no parish field work in seminary. I prayed in long houses in British Columbia and was perfectly at home inside a maximum security prison unit. Addicts and inmates, dying people and rebellious teenagers didn’t daunt me, but I certainly wasn’t a parish pastor. This is not to say that I am without faith. The kind of ministry I have experienced is not for the faint of heart. So ok…I’ll strike a deal. I’ll come and preach and then go home. They agreed to that. Then I watched them.

They did everything at the church. They cleaned the bathrooms. They replaced toilets. They brought food. They prepared the bulletins. There was a dog who sat in the front pew and seemed to listen to my sermons. There was a piano player who could make all my favorite songs fill the sanctuary with joy. They never said, “We’ve done enough.” They always said, “How can I help?” They never said, “I’m too busy.” They always said, “I’ll do that right away.” They didn’t just talk about the unhoused in our downtown Phoenix community, they showed up in person to visit with them. They made hundreds of blankets for our asylum seeking neighbors in Mexico and convinced non-church community members to bring carloads of food to place at our altar before distribution to local food banks. The men clean up the kitchen. They know stuff about addiction, incarceration, poverty, LBGTQ issues and loss.. They’re even fun, and they laugh and tease one another. They recently raised thousands of dollars to provide heat relief during our desert climate crisis.

After awhile, I started looking at their dear faces from the pulpit, and I realized that I loved them, especially the dog. It seems I’m a parish pastor after all. God certainly has a wild sense of humor.

I will not be among the hand wringers who prophesize the demise of the Christian church. I believe our strength is not in numbers, but in bold faith put into action. If we focus on acting out the Good News of the all inclusive Gospel, we can’t go wrong. Black Mountain United Church of Christ has taught me that. I say this with good authority. After all, I’m a parish pastor.

The Reverend Dr. Kristina Campbell

Transitional Minister Black Mountain United Church of Christ

Scottsdale, Arizona

Too Many Things

by Rev. Lynne Hinton

My grandmother used to have a favorite saying she liked to share whenever I had my arms full and dropped something I was carrying. “Never take a lazy man’s load.” It was her way of telling me that it’s better to take less things more times than it is to try and get it all in one trip. Trying to hold onto too much, she would explain, usually after everything I was holding dropped out of my arms, is a sure recipe for disaster.

I hear her voice inside my head every time I try to carry too many things, thinking I can manage extra bags or books or groceries, and I hear a “my, my, my…” after the accident happens, yet again. One would think that after fifty years of being taught that lesson, I would have learned it. And yet, it still always seems like I attempt to pile more things in my arms, try to carry more than I actually can.

Author Mark Nepo writes about a friend of his who had a similar problem; his, a self-induced fall. He had set out to paint a room in his house. He bought the supplies, drop cloths, paint brushes, cans of paint, mixing sticks, then mixed the paint, and got ready to enter the door to the house to start his project. Nepo’s friend explained, “I teetered there for minutes, trying to open the door, not wanting to put anything down. I was so stubborn. I had the door almost open when I lost my grip, stumbled backwards, and wound up on the ground, red gallons of paint all over me.”

Nepo goes on to write, “Amazingly, we all do this, whether with groceries or paint or with the stories we feel determined to share. We do this with our love, with our sense of truth, even with our pain. It’s such a simple thing, but in a moment of ego we refuse to put down what we carry in order to open the door. Time and time again, we are offered the chance to truly learn this: We cannot hold on to things and enter. We must put down what we carry, open the door, and then take up only what we need to bring inside.”

Both my grandmother’s “lazy man’s load” and Nepo’s “moments of ego” remind me that usually bad things happen when we try to carry too many things or stack too much on our backs, attempt to move forward by clinging to the past or refusing to let go of stuff. There is more calm and less drama, more peace and less disasters when we take things slowly, when we put things aside, when we allow ourselves the room and space to walk.

On the surface, attempting to do too many things at once doesn’t seem like the actions of a lazy person, but rather appears to be the work of an industrious being, a hardworking soul. And yet, to continue fooling yourself into thinking you’re able to keep too many balls in the air, more items on your list than you can remember, too many events for your mind to hold, too much in your bags to carry, will certainly leave you with the same thoughts and emotions as the painter covered in spilled paint.

“Never take a lazy man’s load,” I hear my grandmother say once again; and I sigh as I put down a bag of groceries, open the door, and take them in just one sack at a time.

The Art of Inviting: How to Extend an Extravagant Welcome

by Christopher Schouten, moderator at Black Mountain UCC, in a letter to church members

Hello, dear members of the Black Mountain United Church of Christ,

If you’re reading this, it’s likely that you’re passionate about our community and you’re keen on extending the warmth, love, and fellowship we share to others. However, the task of inviting someone to church can seem daunting, if not a little intimidating. You’re not alone – many people feel the same way.

The good news? Inviting someone to church doesn’t have to be a nerve-wracking experience. Here are a few practical suggestions on how to approach it:

1. Choose wisely: Everyone is potentially a great invitee. However, focusing on people you already have a connection with can be a more comfortable starting point. These could be friends, family members, coworkers, or neighbors. They’re already familiar with you, and you with them, which makes for a more organic conversation.

2. Know your audience: Before extending an invitation, try to understand the other person’s spiritual beliefs, interests, or needs. For instance, a friend grappling with grief might appreciate a supportive community, or a relative new to the area could be looking to make connections.

3. Practice empathy: Be mindful of your invitee’s comfort level. Respect their religious or non-religious beliefs and ensure your invitation does not come across as forceful or intrusive.

Now, let’s talk about how to start that conversation:

1. Find a natural segue: If the subject of faith, community, or church comes up in a casual conversation, that could be an opportune time to mention your church and extend an invitation.

2. Share your experience: Talk about why you love our church community and how it’s helped you. Personal stories resonate, and you’re more likely to spark interest this way. For instance, you could say, “I’ve been attending the Black Mountain United Church, and it’s been such a source of strength and community for me. I think you might enjoy it as well.”

3. Involve them in a church event: Instead of directly inviting them to a service, invite them to a non-religious event your church is hosting. It could be a community service project, a book club, or a potluck dinner. This will give them an opportunity to experience the community and decide if they’d like to explore further.

4. Use social media: If face-to-face invitations feel daunting, consider sharing your church experience on social media. A picture from a recent event or a quote from last Sunday’s sermon could pique someone’s interest.

5. Follow up, but don’t push: After extending an invitation, give the person some time to consider it. Be open to answering any questions they may have about our church but refrain from pushing them to give you an answer.

Remember, the goal isn’t to have a high ‘success rate’ of getting people to come to church. The true aim is to extend an open hand of friendship and love to those around us. Keep your intentions pure, stay patient, and you might be surprised by how many lives you touch.

Your role as a member of Black Mountain United Church of Christ extends beyond our weekly services. It’s about living our values and extending our spirit of community, one invitation at a time.