Category: community

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?

  1. 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.
  2. 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).
  3. 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.
  4. 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.)
  5. 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).
  6. 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:

  1. When was the first time you became aware of your own race, and what were the circumstances?
  2. How has your racial identity shaped your access to opportunities (education, housing, employment, etc.)?
  3. What are some instances where you’ve been treated as an individual, while people of color were treated as representatives of their entire race?
  4. How have you benefited from a system that historically and currently disadvantages people of color?
  5. In what ways have you been silent or complicit in the face of racial injustice, even if unintentionally?
  6. How have you perpetuated stereotypes or microaggressions, even if you didn’t intend to cause harm?
  7. What are the limitations of your current understanding of race and racism, and what steps are you taking to expand your knowledge?
  8. How do you center the voices and experiences of people of color in your life and work?
  9. What specific actions are you taking to dismantle white supremacy and promote racial justice in your sphere of influence?
  10. 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:

  1. How has our church’s history and demographics reflected or perpetuated racial segregation or exclusion?
  2. How do our church’s programs and outreach initiatives address or fail to address the needs of racially diverse communities?
  3. How do we ensure that the voices and experiences of people of color are centered and valued in our worship, leadership, and decision-making?
  4. How has our church benefited from or been complicit in systems of racial oppression, both historically and in the present?
  5. In what ways has our church remained silent or inactive in addressing racial injustice within our community and beyond?
  6. How might our church’s language, imagery, and traditions perpetuate harmful stereotypes or microaggressions?
  7. What resources and educational opportunities are we providing to help our congregation deepen their understanding of race and racism?
  8. How are we actively building relationships with and supporting the leadership of people of color within our church and community?
  9. What specific actions are we taking as a church to dismantle white supremacy and promote racial justice within our congregation and community?
  10. 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.

Bathrooms Matter

by Dr. Kristina “Tina” Campbell

When I was studying for my D.Min. degree, I was commuting between British Columbia and Minnesota to do my class work, so I pretty much took any class that was compatible with me being away from my responsibilities as the director of a treatment center for addiction. 

One summer I signed up for a class on Hans Kung at Luther Theological Seminary, part of the consortium of schools where I was enrolled as a student.  Being from out of town, I required student housing, so signed up to live in a dorm for the month I would attend class. 

When I arrived at Luther, I was rather shocked and more than a little dismayed to discover that I was going to be housed in the men’s dorm. Alas, in this dark age, there were no dorms for women and virtually no female students attending classes at Luther. I was further mortified to learn that I would have to use the men’s bathroom in the dorm, and I was cavalierly informed by the dorm supervisor that I would be required to hang a sign on the door of the bathroom whenever I was occupying the space. 

I gritted my teeth and complied with the bathroom protocol only to discover that my male dorm mates thought it was great fun to bang on the door and yell out obscenities when I was inside the bathroom. I could feel myself sinking into a feeling of depressed anxiety, always wondering who these door bangers were, and wondering if they were the people in the rooms next to mine. I couldn’t think of an appropriate response. 

With these unfortunate bathroom experiences under my belt, I shuffled into the first meeting of my class on Hans Kung and discovered that it was being taught by the internationally respected theologian Dr. Warren Quanbeck. Dr. Quanbeck had attended discussions on Vatican II and was well known for his participation in the World Council of Churches. I felt right at home with his teaching style as he appeared in class in well-worn blue jeans and a plaid flannel shirt. Very Minnesota! As the class concluded, he announced, “Campbell, please stay after class.” I found myself wondering what awful experience could be next in my horrifying theological education. 

Much to my delight and surprise, Dr. Quanbeck calmly announced to me: “You don’t need to study Hans Kung, but I was wondering if you would like to meet in my study to discuss T.S. Eliot?” This scholar of great grace had apparently heard of some of my work with the marginalized and of my interest in writing. I gratefully, extremely gratefully, accepted his offer. 

As the weeks went by, Dr. Quanbeck revealed to me that he was dying, and that he wanted to know more about my work with Native American and Canadian belief systems. We had long discussions about many topics, and didn’t dodge the difficult subject of death. He made my weeks at Luther some of the most meaningful of my life.  Dr. Quanbeck died shortly after I returned to Canada. 

Sadly, bathrooms are still an issue, and Rep. Nancy Mace of South Carolina is trying to pass legislation that would prevent Sarah McBride, the first openly trans elected member of Congress, from using the women’s bathroom. Really, America, is this how we want to use our valuable time and energy??? 

Ms. McBride has gracefully stated, “I’m not here to fight about bathrooms,” but we need to take up her fight on behalf of any people who are being bullied for any reason. 

In her beautifully poignant memoir, Sarah McBride speaks of the importance of human beings acting out a graceful and loving way of living in order to set an example for others to follow. She wants us to set the tone of how others will live and be. We are challenged to demonstrate our beliefs through our behavior. 

In my experience at Luther, I had firsthand experience with this concept.  The men who inhabited my dorm set an example of bullying. Dr. Quanbeck, on the other hand, modeled grace, acceptance, calm, and welcome. 

We are the United Church of Christ where all are welcome. We will not allow Sarah McBride or any other trans person to be bullied or distracted from their calling. Bathrooms do matter. How we behave matters a great deal.  We are challenged to live out the words “no matter who you are or where you are on life’s journey, you are welcome here.” 

Honoring Veterans, Serving Our Communities, and Leading with Love

by SWC Associate Conference Minister Rev. Dr. Derrick Elliott

A letter to the Clergy of the Southwest Conference:

As we approach Veterans Day, we are reminded of the incredible sacrifices made by the men and women who have served in the armed forces. Veterans Day offers us a chance to reflect on the values of courage, commitment, and service that our veterans embody—a reminder of our own call to serve and support one another in faith.

For those in your congregations who have served, or who have loved ones in service, I encourage you to take a moment this weekend to honor and acknowledge their contributions. As a veteran myself, having served in both the Army and Air Force, I hold a deep, personal appreciation for the dedication and resilience required of our service members. I know firsthand the unique challenges and the profound sense of purpose that military service can bring, as well as the need for understanding, healing, and support afterward.

Moreover, this Sunday also holds unique significance as many of you will be preaching in the wake of the recent election. Our communities may be processing a mix of emotions, from hope to concern to uncertainty. As we step into our pulpits, let us strive to offer words that unite, uplift, and encourage healing across differences. The message of Christ’s love, justice, and peace is a powerful balm in times like these, and I trust each of you to bring compassion and wisdom to the task of pastoring those you serve.

I also want to acknowledge those of you who, like me, work outside the church in various fields while balancing ministry within your congregations. Your commitment to serve both the church and the wider community is invaluable, as it extends the reach of the Gospel and reflects Christ’s love in workplaces, schools, hospitals, and beyond. Your work often goes unseen but remains a powerful testament to our faith in action. Know that you are deeply appreciated for your ministry both inside and outside church walls.

As people of God, let us uphold our veterans in prayer, giving thanks for their dedication and asking for peace, healing, and strength in their lives. I also encourage you to consider how we, as a conference, can support veterans in our communities year-round, recognizing the unique needs they may have in the journey toward wholeness and peace.

As we gather for worship this weekend, may our reflections on Veterans Day and the recent election remind us of the strength and resilience found in our communities of faith and service. Together, let us honor the gifts and sacrifices of all who have served, embracing them as we continue our shared mission of love and healing.

We Are All Connected

by Rev. Lynne Hinton

Writer Joseph Campbell tells a story of a police officer saving a young man’s life as he was planning to commit suicide by jumping off a bridge. The police officer saw the person about to jump, exited the car from the passenger’s side, ran to him, and grabbed the man just as he fell, then slipping and falling with him. They were both then rescued by the driver of the car, the other police officer, and both were pulled to safety.

Campbell writes about this encounter, “Do you realize what had suddenly happened to that policeman who had given himself to death with that unknown youth? Everything else in his life had dropped off – his duty to his family, his duty to his job, his duty to his own life – all of his wishes and hopes for his lifetime had just disappeared. He was about to die.”

Later a newspaper reporter asked the officer, ‘why didn’t you let go? You would have been killed.’ And his reported answer was, ‘I couldn’t let go. If I had let that young man go, I couldn’t have lived another day of my life.’”

“Why?” Campbell wanted to know. Why would anyone defy the supposedly first law of nature, self-preservation, to save another person? Why would someone risk their life for someone else? Campbell believes it is because there are other laws, stronger and deeper laws, operating within us. Wayne Muller describes these laws as coming from, “a deep mutuality that resonates within us, an inner knowing that we share the same life, the same breath, the same spirit, and the suffering of any single being somehow diminishes us all.”

Campbell sums it up this way: “Our true reality is our identity and unity with all life.”

Despite our differences, our unique individuations, we are all connected and we all share this life together. We are one. We are together.

As we move towards election day in this country, a day of marked division across our nation, may we be mindful that we are truly united by more than what divides us. May we be mindful of the deep and strong laws within us. And may we continue to live with the truth that the suffering of any single being somehow diminishes us all.