community – Southwest Conference Blog

KATRINA

by Dr. Kristina “Tina” Campbell

Last Sunday I had the opportunity to observe Dr. Gloria Smith sit on the floor surrounded by young adults. She was addressing the 20^th anniversary of Hurricane Katrina, an event that took place before most of them were born. In her typically respectful posture toward the young, Dr. Smith carefully explained the rise of the storm and the circumstances that made it so devastating. She went on to clearly describe not only the real-life physical aftermath of Katrina, but the reality of those who were the most physically, emotionally and morally injured…the harsh reality for the poor and disenfranchised. However, Dr. Smith did not stop here. She talked about the importance of the concept of neighbor helping neighbor, how the UCC rolled up its collective sleeves, and began picking up one stick at a time.

Katrina slammed into New Orleans, reportedly as one of the worst five storms in American history, and like the open casket of Emmett Louis Till, forced Americans to see the ugly divide of race. I watched in horror as Brian Williams reported his personal experience with Katrina’s aftermath in an NBC news special that appeared a year after the storm hit. Williams repeated over and over again that the post Katrina situation did not resemble anything that could happen in the United States, and that the human suffering was incredible by modern standards. As the crowd in the Superdome grew to more than 30,000, Williams lost his reporter’s neutrality, and talked about the inhabitants as being “obviously poor” and mostly African American. He went on to report that the Superdome inhabitants were treated roughly by the National Guard, and the whole situation “felt bad.” After the storm passed, and the levees broke, flooding at least 80% of the city, Williams, hoping to use the media’s influence in a positive way, further dropped his neutrality and pleaded with any authorities who would listen to recognize that there were people still in desperate need of help. Williams stated in an interview that he viewed the situation from his own standing as a father and husband, and related back to his childhood values that we are all of equal value. He summarized that the families of color in New Orleans were not treated with equal value.

This news special put my own mind and heart into motion. Who were these people who remained in New Orleans during and after the storm? Why did they stay? How did the rest of the country view them? Why didn’t we know about them before?

The term “underclass” was coined in the United States by journalist Ken Auletta, and it focuses attention on the basement of the American social system (those who are viewed to be “under” the rest of us). Christopher Jencks suggests three different kinds of “underclass”: economic (those who are working age and unable to get steady work); moral (whose with deviant behavioral norms such as addiction) and educational (those lacking in cultural and social skills). These citizens are the least privileged in our culture. Many of those most harshly affected by Katrina were already the poorest of the poor. The people who remained during and after Katrina lacked basic resources to evacuate the area.

Barack Obama responded by saying, “I hope we realize that the people of New Orleans weren’t just abandoned during the hurricane. They were abandoned long ago—to murder and mayhem in the streets, to substandard schools, to dilapidated housing, to inadequate health care, to a pervasive sense of hopelessness.”

The moral question becomes: Will Americans continue to turn a blind eye to the underclass and support political decisions based on hate, privilege and prejudice or will we come together to form a community of hope, picking up one spiritual stick at a time? Will we learn the painful lessons that Katrina was trying to teach? Will we, like Dr. Gloria Smith, pass on our learnings to the next generation, roll up our sleeves, suit up and show up, and say a resounding “no” to hate and hopelessness??? I say it’s time to get to work.

Image by Milano Ryce on flickr

12 Safeguards for Spiritual Caregivers

by Christopher Schouten

For clergy or lay members engaged in the demanding and holy work of pastoral care, sustainability is key. The following safeguards are designed to help you protect your spirit, maintain healthy boundaries, and continue to serve from a place of fullness rather than depletion, preventing burnout and compassion fatigue.

Anchor Yourself in Personal Spiritual Practices You cannot pour out what you have not first received. Your personal time for prayer, scripture study, and quiet contemplation is not a luxury – it is the very source of the grace you extend to others. Protect this time fiercely so you can minister from a place of genuine connection with God.
Acknowledge the Sacred Weight of the Work The stories you hear and the pain you witness are heavy. Acknowledge the emotional and spiritual toll of this ministry. Like Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane, it is okay to feel the weight of this work. Naming it prevents the burden from silently crushing your spirit.
Set Healthy Ministry Boundaries Your role is to be a companion, not a savior. Practice compassionate detachment by walking with people in their pain without taking their burdens on as your own. Know when a visit is over, be clear about your availability, and protect your family and personal time.
Actively Give and Receive Care Within Your Team Your care team meetings should be more than just case management. They must be a safe space for you to be vulnerable, to share your own struggles, and to pray for one another. Intentionally practice being a caregiver to your fellow team members.
Know When to Refer You are a spiritual companion, not a professional therapist or social worker. A critical part of responsible pastoral care is recognizing situations that are beyond the scope of your training. See it as a strength, not a failure, to connect someone with professional counseling or other resources.
Practice Spiritual and Emotional Self-Awareness Regularly and prayerfully check in with yourself. What are your personal signs of stress or fatigue? Are you feeling irritable, cynical, or emotionally numb? Pay attention to these signals from your body and spirit as a prompt to seek rest and support.
Embrace the Discipline of Sabbath True Sabbath is more than just a day off; it is a deliberate ceasing from work and worry to delight in God and creation. Intentionally schedule time for rest, hobbies, and activities that replenish your soul and have nothing to do with your ministry role.
Nurture Your Life Outside of Ministry Your identity is more than “pastoral caregiver.” Cultivate your friendships, family relationships, and personal interests. Maintaining a full and varied life provides perspective, joy, and resilience that will, in turn, enrich your ministry.
Seek Continual Spiritual Formation Continue to be a student of faith. Participating in Bible studies, attending workshops, or going on retreats for your own spiritual growth will deepen your wellspring of wisdom and grace, equipping you for the long haul of ministry.
Practice Grace-Filled Self-Compassion You will not always have the right words. You will sometimes feel like you have failed. In these moments, extend the same grace to yourself that you are called to extend to others. Remember that your worth is not in your effectiveness, but in your identity as a beloved child of God.
Reconnect with Your Calling When you feel weary, take time to remember and reflect on why you first felt called to this ministry. Sharing these stories with your team can be a powerful reminder of your shared purpose and God’s faithfulness.
Lean on Church Leadership You are not in this alone. Your senior minister and other church leaders are there to support you. Be honest with them about the team’s weariness and your personal need for support. A healthy ministry is one where caregivers feel seen, valued, and supported by their leadership.

Based on the works of:

Barton, R. H. (2008). Strengthening the Soul of Your Leadership: Seeking God in the Crucible of Ministry. InterVarsity Press.

Burns, B., Chapman, T. D., & Guthrie, D. C. (2013). Resilient Ministry: What Pastors Told Us About Surviving and Thriving. IVP Books.

Beyond the Ballot: A Christian Call to Understanding in Divided Times

by Christopher Schouten

We live in deeply polarized times. If you’re reading this, chances are you’ve felt bewildered, frustrated, or even angered by the political choices of fellow Americans, perhaps even friends or family members. The rise and continued support for figures like Donald Trump often elicit strong reactions, and the question “How can they possibly support him?” echoes in many conversations. For those of us guided by faith, this political chasm presents not only a civic challenge but a spiritual one. How do we respond when faced with views that seem diametrically opposed to our own, especially when guided by Christ’s teachings?

Common answers often point to racism, ignorance, or blind allegiance. While prejudice and misinformation are undeniably part of the complex picture, relying solely on these explanations can sometimes feel insufficient. It can shut down curiosity and prevent us from understanding the deeper currents that might be influencing millions of people. As Christians, we are called to something deeper than surface judgment. We’re called to look beyond outward appearances, remembering that “The Lord does not look at the things people look at… the Lord looks at the heart” (1 Samuel 16:7). If our goal is not just to win arguments, but perhaps to build bridges as peacemakers (Matthew 5:9) and reflect Christ’s love, we need to be willing to explore the underlying human experiences with a spirit of compassion.

This isn’t about excusing harmful beliefs or actions. Understanding is not endorsement, and we must always speak truth to injustice. But it is about recognizing the shared humanity, the Imago Dei, in every person, and exploring the complex motivations that might lead someone to a vastly different political conclusion. Drawing from conversations, observations, and trying to piece together the ‘why’, I believe a significant driver is a profound anxiety rooted in the dizzying pace and nature of change transforming America and the world.

The Currents Beneath the Surface: Change, Fear, and the Search for Stability

Imagine feeling like the ground is constantly shifting beneath your feet. For decades, many communities, particularly outside major urban centers, have experienced significant economic disruption – manufacturing jobs disappear, small towns struggle, and promises of prosperity ring hollow. But even for those not directly experiencing all these shifts locally, the perception of rapid, unsettling change elsewhere – witnessed daily through news feeds, social media, and television – can be profoundly destabilizing. This perceived pace of transformation, often focusing on urban centers or evolving cultural norms, is frequently highlighted and amplified by political narratives seeking to exploit the resulting anxiety. Simultaneously, technology reframes entire industries and social interactions at lightning speed across the board. Cultural norms evolve, demographic landscapes shift, and long-held identities or social hierarchies feel questioned or overturned, contributing to this widespread sense of unease.

For someone whose identity, livelihood, or sense of community feels deeply tied to a particular way of life, this relentless change – whether directly experienced or intensely observed – isn’t just an abstract concept; it can feel like a direct threat. It can breed anxiety about the future, nostalgia for a perceived simpler past, and a feeling of being left behind or ignored by a mainstream culture that seems to celebrate constant disruption. This anxiety is real, even if the conclusions drawn from it are ones we strongly disagree with. Recognizing this vulnerability is an act of compassion, reflecting the call to “clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience” (Colossians 3:12).

Consider the perspective from some rural areas. They might see rapid cultural shifts portrayed in national media that feel alien to their daily lives and values. It can foster a sense of “us vs. them,” a feeling that their way of life is misunderstood, mocked, or under siege by distant forces. Similarly, older individuals often have decades invested in the world as it was; rapid change can feel particularly destabilizing when you’ve built a life within a certain framework. This isn’t necessarily about rejecting progress wholesale, but about the speed and nature of the change feeling overwhelming and imposed.

When people feel anxious, destabilized, and ignored, they become understandably receptive to narratives that offer clarity, validation, and a sense of control. This is where political leadership and messaging become crucial.

Narratives of Restoration and the Appeal of the Strongman

Fear and anxiety create fertile ground for leaders who promise to restore order, defend traditional values, and fight back against the perceived sources of disruption. The appeal lies in the promise of stability, of returning to a time when things felt more certain or when their group held a more central place in the American narrative.

This is often accompanied by identifying clear ‘enemies’ or scapegoats – be it immigrants, ‘elites’, liberals, or specific minority groups. Channeling complex anxieties about economic insecurity or cultural change onto specific groups simplifies the world. It offers someone to blame and unites people in shared opposition. This mechanism is as old as politics itself, but it finds powerful resonance in times of widespread unease. As people of faith, we must be wary of such divisions, remembering the call to unity and the inherent worth of all people.

When a figure like Trump speaks directly to these feelings – validating the anger, acknowledging the sense of loss, promising to “make things great again” – it can feel incredibly powerful to those who feel left behind. His actions, such as rolling back regulations or appointing conservative judges, can be interpreted by supporters as concrete proof that he is fulfilling his promise to turn back the clock, providing tangible reassurance that someone is fighting for them against the tide of change. It’s less about critical analysis of policy impacts and more about the symbolic affirmation that their fears are recognized and acted upon.

Bridging the Gap: A Christian Mandate to Reach Out

Acknowledging these underlying dynamics doesn’t mean we agree with the conclusions or condone the prejudices that can arise. The real-world consequences of certain political choices and rhetoric are severe, and faithfulness often requires speaking out against them. Faced with the pain and division these viewpoints can cause, many of us, understandably, have made the difficult choice to distance ourselves, sometimes cutting ties altogether to protect our own well-being. That decision is deeply personal and often necessary. Yet, we must also recognize that disengagement, while preserving peace in one sense, closes the door on the possibility of mutual understanding or gentle influence.

If we hope to be agents of reconciliation, however small, it likely won’t come through winning arguments that prove weare right. Rather, it might emerge from embodying Christ’s love through compassionate engagement – an approach that seeks to understand the person behind the views and, perhaps, opens a door for them to encounter alternative perspectives as human and valid, not just threatening.

How, then, do we navigate this tension? How do we remain faithful to truth and justice while also heeding Christ’s radical command in Matthew 5:44: “Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you”? This isn’t a suggestion; it’s a core tenet of following Him. It challenges us to see even those whose views we find harmful not merely as opponents, but as people loved by God, potentially captive to fear or misinformation.

So, how can we embody this difficult love in practical ways?

Listen with Humility: Approach conversations with genuine curiosity and humility, seeking to understand before seeking to be understood (James 1:19). Ask open-ended questions about their experiences, worries, and hopes. Resist the urge to immediately rebut or formulate your counter-argument. Focus first on hearing their story, recognizing their inherent dignity.
Seek Common Ground: Look for shared values or frustrations outside of hot-button politics. Concerns about family, community well-being, honesty, fairness – these often transcend political labels. Connect on shared humanity first. Remember Paul’s approach in Athens, finding common ground before introducing a different perspective (Acts 17).
Validate Feelings, Not Necessarily Beliefs: You can acknowledge someone’s frustration or fear (“It sounds like you feel really left behind by the economy”) without agreeing with their explanation for it. This reflects compassion and opens doors rather than slamming them shut.
Share Your Story with Grace: Sometimes, sharing your own experiences or perspectives, perhaps how your faith informs your views on social justice or compassion, can be powerful. Do so gently, focusing on shared values and human experience. (As my own LGBTQIA+ activism has shown, personal stories can sometimes reach hearts when facts alone cannot.)
Challenge Ideas Gently, Focus on Impact: If you do discuss contentious issues, focus on the impact of policies or actions, guided by principles of justice and love for neighbor. Instead of judgment (“How could you believe that?”), try inquiry (“Have you considered how that policy might affect the ‘least of these’ Jesus spoke of?”). Avoid personal attacks, striving to “live at peace with everyone,” as far as it depends on you (Romans 12:18).
Pray and Be Patient: Deeply held beliefs rarely change overnight. Pray for wisdom, for patience, and for the hearts of those you engage with. Aim for relationship and faithful witness, not necessarily immediate conversion or political agreement. Building bridges is slow, often unseen work, like planting seeds (1 Corinthians 3:6-7).

Moving Forward in Faith

There are no easy answers to the divisions we face. But defaulting to dismissal, demonization or caricature of those we disagree with deepens the trenches and falls short of our Christian calling. By making an effort to understand the anxieties, fears, and desires that might fuel different political choices – particularly the profound human reaction to rapid, destabilizing change – we equip ourselves with the compassion needed to connect. It requires us to actively choose love over judgment, peace over conflict, and humility over certainty. It’s difficult, often thankless work, demanding patience and prayer. But perhaps it’s the very work Jesus calls us to: reflecting His love in a fractured world, one conversation, one relationship at a time.

Unpacking White Privilege: Personal and Church-Wide Reflection on Decentering Whiteness

by Christopher Schouten, Southwest Conference Decentering Whiteness Task Force

The Decentering Whiteness Task Force of the Southwest Conference of the UCC will be present at the 2025 Annual Meeting in Albuquerque. We will be offering a workshop titled “Calling People In,” a method designed to address problematic behaviors or statements, especially those rooted in racial bias, with compassion and education rather than public shaming. In the context of racial justice and decentering whiteness, this approach fosters accountability while recognizing that everyone is on a learning journey, prioritizing understanding and growth over punitive measures. This seeks to create a safer space for dialogue, particularly for those from marginalized groups, by fostering a learning environment where individuals can recognize and correct their biases, thus shifting away from a culture that protects white comfort at the expense of addressing systemic inequity. Additionally, we will host a table with various resources to support churches in their quest for decentering whiteness, both personally and within their congregations.

We will also be revamping the Decentering Whitness Resources section of the conference website in order to offer a comprehensive set of ideas and tools for decentering whiteness in the church and in our own lives. This article is an example of the kinds of resources we will make available, providing a starting point for deeper reflection and action.

Introduction

Our journey towards racial justice and decentering whiteness is a dual path, demanding both personal introspection and communal accountability, particularly within our church communities. As individuals, we must confront the ways white privilege has shaped our lives. As a church, we must examine how our institutions and practices have perpetuated racial inequality. This article is designed to facilitate this dual reflection, providing separate sets of critical questions for personal and church-wide consideration. By engaging with these questions, we can move towards a deeper understanding and take meaningful action for racial justice.

Part 1: Personal Reflection on White Privilege

Introduction:

This section focuses on individual self-examination, encouraging white individuals to confront their own experiences and biases related to race.

10 Critical Questions for Personal Reflection:

When was the first time you became aware of your own race, and what were the circumstances?
How has your racial identity shaped your access to opportunities (education, housing, employment, etc.)?
What are some instances where you’ve been treated as an individual, while people of color were treated as representatives of their entire race?
How have you benefited from a system that historically and currently disadvantages people of color?
In what ways have you been silent or complicit in the face of racial injustice, even if unintentionally?
How have you perpetuated stereotypes or microaggressions, even if you didn’t intend to cause harm?
What are the limitations of your current understanding of race and racism, and what steps are you taking to expand your knowledge?
How do you center the voices and experiences of people of color in your life and work?
What specific actions are you taking to dismantle white supremacy and promote racial justice in your sphere of influence?
How will you hold yourself accountable for continued growth and avoid reverting to harmful patterns of thought or behavior?

Part 2: Church-Wide Reflection on Racial Justice

Introduction:

This section focuses on communal reflection within the church, encouraging congregations to examine their role in perpetuating or dismantling racial inequality.

10 Critical Questions for Church-Wide Reflection:

How has our church’s history and demographics reflected or perpetuated racial segregation or exclusion?
How do our church’s programs and outreach initiatives address or fail to address the needs of racially diverse communities?
How do we ensure that the voices and experiences of people of color are centered and valued in our worship, leadership, and decision-making?
How has our church benefited from or been complicit in systems of racial oppression, both historically and in the present?
In what ways has our church remained silent or inactive in addressing racial injustice within our community and beyond?
How might our church’s language, imagery, and traditions perpetuate harmful stereotypes or microaggressions?
What resources and educational opportunities are we providing to help our congregation deepen their understanding of race and racism?
How are we actively building relationships with and supporting the leadership of people of color within our church and community?
What specific actions are we taking as a church to dismantle white supremacy and promote racial justice within our congregation and community?
How will we hold ourselves accountable as a church for continued growth and avoid reverting to harmful patterns of thought or behavior regarding race?

Conclusion:

This process of self-examination and communal reflection is not a one-time event, but an ongoing commitment. It requires vulnerability, a willingness to confront uncomfortable truths, and a dedication to continuous learning. By engaging with these questions, both personally and as a church community, we can move beyond passive awareness and actively contribute to building a more just and equitable society, reflecting the true nature of God’s love and justice. Remember, the goal is not to dwell in guilt or shame, but to transform understanding into meaningful action, fostering a church that truly embodies the unity and reconciliation envisioned in our faith. This is a journey of lifelong learning, and the commitment to this path, both individually and collectively, is what truly creates lasting change within ourselves and within our church.

The Stone of Resentment

by Rev. Lynne Hinton

The rock is cumbersome. And I keep taking it out of my pocket and leaving it places. In the car. On my desk. At the office.

It was my friend’s idea to ritualize my surrender of resentments for Lent. Carry a stone around with me to live into the weight of resentment. It’s been helpful as a reminder that I really want to let go. And the taking it out and leaving it reminds me that the things we carry around with us, the grudges, the bitterness, don’t just stay in one place, one relationship. Rather, we take them into other places, other relationships, other parts of our lives.

It is my intention to think of a different resentment each week, write a letter to the thing I resent, the person I have not yet been reconciled with and finally, let the rock go.

Then pick up another and start again.

It’s interesting to consider how the antagonistic feelings, the negative emotions take up so much room in my spirit, interesting to consider the ways stones block the flow of grace. I am now more aware than ever that unhealed wounds harden, what has been left unforgiven takes up soul space.

I’ve picked up my third rock this third week of Lent, working on an old resentment, one I thought I had made peace with. But the stone is sharp and clumsy in my pocket, reminding me that the old pain is still there and still in need of resolution. I take it out, turn it over in my hands and recall how it felt when the incident first happened, how raw and sore I was for a while, how I thought I was well past it.

I return the rock to my pocket and head out for a meeting, the weight of the suffering still present, still felt.

One by one, I pray to let go. One by one I ask for the burden to be lightened. One by one I know I stand in the need of grace in this work of forgiveness and surrender.

Lent has become important to me this year serving as the reminder that so often what I had imagined was over and done is still, sometimes, present and sometimes still weighing me down. And like Lazarus called forth from the grave by the Living Christ, I am invited to be unbound and set free.

What is the assignment?

by Rev. Louis Mitchell

What is the assignment?

This past Sunday that was the title of my sermon. It was a response to the question, “What do I do now?”

I realize that many of my congregation are completely off balance because of the rapid societal/political changes.

They feel like deer in the headlights and feel sad and ashamed that they don’t know what to do.

I offered this to them, and I offer it to you.

Please pray with me:
God of mercy, God of grace,
We come hungry for peace and hungry for justice.
Help us to not turn away from the suffering around us,
And give us places of unexpected joy.
Be healing, God.
Be nurture, God.
Be love, we pray.
May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts
Fall on your ears, as pleasing.
You are our rock, our refuge, our guide, and our glory.
Amen.

The assignment.
What is the assignment?
What is our assignment, individually and collectively?
How do we get from here to there?

Listen
Listen to voices outside of your experience. Listen to hear. Ask thoughtful questions.

Learn
Ingest what you’ve heard. Look up names, circumstances that you didn’t know of. Learn of the histories of the people you want to support.

Consider
Deepen your learning by being prayerful. Imagine you experiencing life through their eyes.

Repent
Ask for forgiveness for any part that your ancestors and/or you played in the oppression of people, even when you didn’t know you were benefitting from or sustaining inequities.

Amend
Change something for the betterment of those you seek to help. You’ll only know what needs changing by asking them. Do not assume you know better than they what they need.

Heal
Give yourself space to grieve the old you. Learning that you have been part of the problem is hard and tender work. Align with others on this path for care and healing.

Stretch
Stretch your awareness even more. Find ways to seek relationship. Move from paternalism to partnership.

Reach
It will take some courage, patience, and thoughtfulness to forge these relationships that will be built on generations of broken trust, broken promises and smiling but lying eyes. This will not be a “microwave” experience.

Love
Figure out what love looks like in each situation. Lean in, ask, listen.

Serve
Do something to repair the harm done. Small things, big things, some thing.

If we can do these things, the assignments will place themselves right in front of us.
Some of us will move from good allyship to being accomplices.
Some of us will learn things that hurt our feelings and upset our sensibilities.
Some of us will learn that everything we’ve been taught hasn’t always been right.

And it’ll be okay. Not comfortable or easy and not without joy, love, and laughter.
But the time has come. It is not too late.
And lives are literally depending on us to be faithful followers of Jesus.

May the God of peace engulf creation.
And our deeds make differences in the world.
Go with peace and go with purpose. Amen.

The Super Bowl & the Sacred: Rethinking Whiteness in Christian Spaces

by Christopher Schouten, Chairperson, SWC Decentering Whiteness Task Force

The recent Super Bowl halftime show, featuring Kendrick Lamar and other prominent Black artists, ignited a firestorm of debate. Many, across racial lines, celebrated the performance as a powerful moment of representation and artistic expression. Yet, some white viewers expressed disappointment, confusion, or resentment, feeling the show wasn’t “for them.” This reaction highlights a critical issue, especially within the church: the need to decenter whiteness. It moves beyond basic racial justice (“Please don’t kill, jail, and discriminate against us”) to address the ingrained habit of placing whiteness at the center of everything. It calls for grace, understanding, and a willingness to step outside our comfort zones, recognizing the vast diversity of God’s creation reflected in the body of Christ.

These reactions—both positive and negative—are a microcosm of our societal struggle with race and representation. Some criticisms, perhaps well-intentioned, revealed an underlying assumption that major cultural events should primarily cater to a white, mainstream audience. This often unconscious assumption is a manifestation of white-centeredness: the perspective that positions whiteness as the norm, the default, the standard.

This white-centeredness is particularly problematic within the church. We profess equality, bound by shared faith and love for God. Galatians 3:28 reminds us, “There is neither Jew nor Gentile, neither slave nor free, nor is there male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus.” Yet, too often, our churches, liturgies, and even interpretations of scripture are filtered through a white lens, marginalizing Black siblings and other people of color.

Decentering whiteness isn’t about demonizing white people or denying historical racial privilege. It’s about acknowledging whiteness as the constructed center, often at others’ expense. It’s about recognizing that Black experiences, perspectives, and voices, and those of other marginalized communities, have been silenced or dismissed, even within the church.

This Super Bowl moment offers valuable introspection. It challenges us: Whose voices are we prioritizing? Whose stories are we telling? Whose experiences are we validating? Are we creating space for the full diversity of God’s children?

Decentering is challenging for those who’ve never questioned their centrality. It requires listening, learning, acknowledging the pain and frustration of marginalized communities, and humility—recognizing our perspectives aren’t the only ones. It requires grace for ourselves and others as we navigate biases and assumptions. We’re all on a journey, and mistakes will happen. But through grace, love, and a commitment to justice, we can dismantle oppressive systems.

Like Bishop Mariann Edgar Budde’s courageous act of speaking truth to power at the Washington National Cathedral, Kendrick Lamar’s performance served as a powerful prophetic witness, addressing systemic racism and police brutality. This “Bishop Budde moment,” this “Kendrick Lamar moment,” isn’t a call for white Christians to be silent. It’s a call to listen, amplify Black voices, stand in solidarity with the marginalized, and examine our own hearts for hidden biases.

Decentering whiteness is ongoing—a continuous journey of learning, reflection, and action. It requires observing our reactions, learning from them, adjusting our behavior, and dismantling oppressive systems within the church and the wider world.

As Micah 6:8 says, “He has shown you, O mortal, what is good. And what does the Lord require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.” Let us embody these words. Let us act justly, love mercy, and walk humbly, recognizing all are equally beloved children of God. Let us create churches where every voice is heard, every story is valued, and every person is celebrated. Let us, with grace and humility, decenter whiteness and embrace the fullness of God’s diverse creation.

White people need to let Black America have this moment and be graceful about decentering themselves, saying, “Yeah, maybe this wasn’t for us. And that’s perfectly OK. Maybe it’s more than OK… maybe it’s amazing and brave, especially now, that a people would liberate and empower themselves this way and speak truth directly to power! Maybe this was Black America’s Bishop Budde moment.”

A Beautiful Community

by Rev. Michael Lonergan

On December 4th, I joined many others from across the country at the Freedom to be Ourselves Rally, that took place outside of the United States Supreme Court Building. That day the court heard arguments in the case of US v Skrmetti. This case challenged the constitutionality of Tennessee’s ban on life saving gender affirming care for transgender youth.

My years of political activism taught me not to expect that our presence outside for a few hours in the brisk December cold would have any real impact on the proceedings inside the Supreme Court. I went to support the transgender youth, their parents, and the entire LGBT+ community. Siblings just like me, made in God’s image and likeness. That is why I went. As usual, God had other ideas.

I joined a contingent who boarded the ACLU sponsored bus in Wilmington, DE. We gathered that morning at 7:30 and departed at 8:00, then arrived in Washington, DC around 10:00. Our group joined others arriving from different areas. As we walked the few blocks from Union Station to the Supreme Court, we heard the rally had already begun. The energy the participants generated seemed palpable.

Initially, this rally seemed similar to others I had attended. The format included a lineup of speakers and chants between the speakers. The speakers included a member of congress and a US Senator. Both spoke words of support for gender affirming care. Medical professionals shared their experiences and their hope that they could continue to offer lifesaving gender affirming care without governmental interference.

I appreciated the professional speakers’ thoughts and presence, but other speakers touched my soul. The transgender clergy, transgender parents, a transgender teenager, and cisgender parents with transgender children all shared their heartfelt stories. As I listened, I felt privileged to take part in such a gathering of God’s children. A gathering that shared a loving community, despite coming from different areas of our country.

An oppressed and marginalized community to be sure, plagued by uncertainty because of the actions of elected officials and Christian nationalists striving to deny them the right to exist as God made them, but a community none the less. When communities get together, what do they do? They celebrate and show concern for each other, and that made Freedom to be Ourselves different. The loud upbeat music that played in between the speeches, the expressions of care and support from the podium and the conversations among the participants showed me that I witnessed something very special.

During my time in the southwest, I met the mother of a transgender child. I saw her post rally comment on social media, “Today’s rally felt like the biggest family reunion, and all the hugs filled my cup!” I commented that it was nice seeing them, and she replied, “Thanks for being there with us.”

Afterward, someone asked me if I think my being there mattered. I replied that it mattered to the people who allowed me into their community for the day, and clearly, it also mattered to me.

Courage,
Rev. Michael P. Lonergan

We Wait

by Rev. Lynne Hinton

Advent begins. This season of waiting needs not be waited for any longer. It is here. So, now we mark this time. And we wait.

How do you rate your ability to wait? Is the season of anticipation an opportunity for sitting still, for being exactly where you are, noticing what is going on around you? Or can you “wait” as I once watched Pastor TD Jakes demonstrate in a sermon as a servant serves? Tray in hand, one arm behind your back, bowed in submission.

The truth is, we probably don’t do either. We pick another brand of “waiting” altogether. We read a book, or work on a laptop, play games on our phone, using our “wait time” as another opportunity to be distracted from where we are, to be somewhere other than the waiting.

Perhaps we choose a different way of waiting this year. Maybe it would benefit our monkey minds just to sit in what feels like “mindless wander” but might actually be “mindfulness.” Perhaps we ask, ‘what is this place I am waiting? What am I even waiting for? How is it in my heart now that I am still and can listen?’

Or perhaps our waiting could involve serving, to learn a new way of humility, of surrender to someone else’s idea, to let go of our need to be recognized, honored, or served, and instead, “wait” on someone else.

If you’ve been in church for any length of time, you understand Advent as the waiting for Christ’s coming. And we change the liturgical colors and we light candles on a wreath. We sing songs of anticipation, we hear passages of hope; but our waiting gets filled up with new activities, more tasks, more busyness so that we find ourselves neither really serving others or being still. We just simply fill up this season like we do all the others.

You could do it differently, you know. Advent, I mean. You could choose this to be your season to be still, to listen to your heart, your body, to honor what is, not what you expect to come, to accept the liminal space of “not yet.”

I’d like to mark this time as slightly different than how I typically manage the month of December. I’d like this time to be more than writing the Christmas letter, getting all the cards mailed on time, buying gifts because this has become the acceptable way to say I love you.

I’d like to be still, to learn humility. I’d like not to have to distract myself when there are a few minutes before the next thing. I’d like to learn how to wait well.

I hope you learn it too.