Douglass Blvd Christian Church

an open and affirming community of faith

n open and affirming community where faith is questioned and formed, as relationships are made and upheld. 

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2015 Halloween Party

We had a great time at the Halloween party Saturday night! It was wonderful to have the women and children from Freedom House with us. Thanks to everyone who participated, and everyone who helped. Most of all, thanks goes to Jennifer Vandiver for organizing everything.

Reflections on PRIDE! (Dennis Blake)

This past weekend, I had the opportunity to attend Louisville’s PRIDE FESTIVAL…my third…as I have only been active in the LGBTQ community for about 4 years. The festival began with the parade on Friday evening. My church, Douglass Blvd. Christian Church, has participated for several years now. I experienced real joy as I marched alongside some of our gay and straight members, carrying our banner of support. I have been involved in church music ministry for 50 years, and experience real joy at being part of a faith community which welcomes and affirms ALL people gathering to worship and fellowship, regardless of gender, age, color, creed or sexual orientation. It brought sheer joy to my heart to witness the smiles of people watching, knowing that many of them were not members of the LGBTQ community, but there to support it. On Saturday, I volunteered, along with some other church members, at our booth…passing out information about DBCC, and engaging in conversation with those who stopped by. I felt great joy in my heart as I heard person after person express thanks that we (representatives of the church) were there with our support. (And lest I forget, there were other churches there as well. Hopefully, next year, there will be even more.)
The balance of the afternoon was spent walking around the festival, meeting old friends, making new ones, and taking in all that the festival had to offer. While there, I could not help but notice the others who had come. As I walked, I saw outfits of every color of the rainbow. People in long pants, short pants, underpants, t-shirts, no shirts, crazy hats, crazy hair, nipple rings, ear gauges, tattoos, lip rings… you name it and it was there. I heard some comments about how the news media only seemed to film and photograph the ones who dressed and behaved in such outlandish manner. I was asked, “Is that the message that we want delivered to the larger Louisville community about the LGBT population?” What about those who choose to be less conspicuous about their “gayness”? After all, the LGBT community contains not only those who blatantly flaunt their homosexuality, but those who dress and act in a more conservative manner. The fact is: we are lawyers, doctors, teachers, servers, sanitation engineers, accountants, students, real estate brokers, managers, construction workers, nurses, bartenders, etc. I would daresay that those in the “straight” Louisville population cannot go anywhere in the area without some contact with a member of the LGBTQ community, and may not even realize it. Some of us are noticed, while others are well-hidden. We are black, white, Asian, Indian, and of mixed descent. We are teenagers, baby boomers, and members of the X and Y generations. Are you getting my point? We represent DIVERSITY, within our own LBGT community.

Youth: Saturday Night Movie Social

The DBCC Youth, as well as our friends, are invited to our first monthly Saturday Night Movie Social (official name pending).  Youth are encouraged to bring friends as we dine, play games, watch a movie, and just hang out together.  The event will be from 6-11PM this Saturday, Jan. 28th.  Bring friendly attitudes, empty stomachs, and lots of friends! 

Sunday Happenings!

Here are some of the cool things happening the next few Sundays here at DBCC:

Jan. 29: Fiesta Dinner



  • Come join us in the Robsion Family Life Center for a Mexican Fiesta meal! We'll have all sorts of Hispanic-inspired cultural dishes. All donations from the meal will be attributed to our Mission Trip Fund!


Feb. 5: Super Bowl Party!



  • If you haven't already bought your catered tray of hot wings, come on down to the church and hang out with us for Super Bowl XLVI! Whether you are a die-hard football fan, or prefer to partake of snacks and non-sports related conversation, please feel free to join us. We will also be visited by our friends from the Grace and Freedom House.


Feb. 12: Planning Meeting Follow-up



  • Join us for a follow-up to our January 7th Event Planning Meeting to dine and discuss the progress of our 2012 events and ministries. As well as discussing plans in greater detail, we will also be giving dates to those events who have progressed to a hard date. This is also a great chance for those who couldn't attend the Jan. 7th meeting to offer their support and assistance for one or more of these initiatives.


Feb. 19: DBCC Dessert Auction



  • To raise money for the Mission Trip, some of the members have donated some of the fabulous desserts for auction. Bring your sweet tooth, wallet, and your bargaining edge. These deserts will be in high demand!


Breakfast Success!

Thank you to everyone who made our first annual Breakfast with Santa a huge success! The profits accrued have already been added to our Mission Trip Fund.  We hope everyone had a great time and hope to see all the new faces at our upcoming events to be announced. 

Everyone who had a picture taken with Santa has been sent an email with a link that will take you to the site from which you can download your own copy of you or your child's picture with St. Nick.  If you haven't received your email by Wednesday, Dec. 21st please contact us via email or telephone. 

We hope everyone has a wonderful Holiday Season! Thank you for sharing it with us. Merry Christmas! 

Grace & Freedom House Angel Tree


 

This Holiday Season we are sponsoring an Angel Tree for our friends at the Grace House and Freedom House of Volunteers of America.  On each Angel Ornament on the Christmas Tree in the Gathering area is a Christmas gift wish along with the name of a mother or child at either Grace or Freedom House.  If you would like to buy a gift for one of these, please pick an angel from the tree.  Take as many as you like!  Wrap your gifts with the angel ornament attached and return to the church no later than December 21.  Join us in sharing the Christmas Spirit with all of God's children this season!

 

DBCC/DLFM Holiday Bazaar

Douglass Boulevard Christian Church and the Douglass Loop Farmers Market will be hosting a Holiday Bazaar on December 3rd from 10am-4pm. For sale will be all locally handmade items from some of Kentucky's finest handcraft artists. Come do some Christmas shopping, admire the craftsmanship, and enjoy a bowl of chili from members of the DBCC family.* All of this will be located in the Robsion Family Life Center of Douglass Boulevard Christian Church. Bring your empty stomachs, Christmas wish list, and holiday spirits!

*Chili proceeds will go toward the mission trip fund for Casa Hogar de San Juan Children’s Home in San Luis Potosi, Mexico

Trunk r' Treat!

 


The Youth are planning to help sponsor a Trunk r’ Treat here at the church on this coming Halloween Weekend, the 29th of October.  Our hope is to create yet another chance for outreach in our Highlands Community.  There will be lots of candy to be had, as well as chili and some interesting costumes to behold. However, we CANNOT do this on our own!  Being that none of our students actually have their own trunk, we’ll need some of you to lend yours.  If you know any children who would like to make a stop on the Trick r’ Treat trail on Saturday night, send them over!  If you know any youth who would like to participate in this event, direct them to us and we will certainly appreciate the helping hand.  

If you would prefer not to decorate your own trunk, the students have said they would be happy to help decorate your trunk on the day of (or the day before) the Trunk r’ Treat.  To make sure we have a student decorator available, please contact Jennifer or myself.

With so many wonderful bakers in our congregation, the students have decided that this year’s Trunk r’ Treat should include a cakewalk.  We have already been rallying for pledges of cakes and deserts.  If you would like to pledge a cake for the cakewalk, we’d be more than happy to accept.  There is no such thing as too many cakes, after all.  We are also still taking pledges for chili.  We’ll accept all kinds! 

If anyone would like to sign-up for a trunk, or pledge cake, chili, or candy, contact our Secretary, Jennifer Vandiver, or our Youth Minister, Geoff Wallace to set you up! 

13th Annual Matthew Shepard Sermon


I had a chance to preach this past Sunday at Trinity Parish Episcopal Church in Seattle, Washington.  The invitation to preach this sermon came to me after DBCC's April 17 congregational vote to stop signing marriage licenses as show of good faith to our LGBTQ members. The folks at Trinity Parish couldn't have been kinder.

You can read the full text of the sermon below. The audio file is at the very bottom of the post. You can subscribe to our podcast and catch all of the sermons at DBCC and special events like the Matthew Shepard Sermon. 

We gather here today, of course, to offer up our worship to God.  As the sursum cordareminds us, "It is meet and right so to do."   In the process, we also seek to commemorate the life of a gay man who was left to die alone.  Thirteen years ago, 2 men took Matthew Shepard from a bar in an automobile, robbed him, pistol-whipped him, tortured him, and tied him to a fence to die alone in the night.  He didn't die on the fence, because a passerby the next morning saw him.  He died 5 days later in a hospital, on October 12, 1998--a victim of senseless violence against somebody on the margins.

That Matthew Shepard was gay apparently gave those two men all the motive they needed to inflict as much damage as venal little minds could concoct.

In the years since, Matthew Shepard has become a symbol of all that hatred can do when unleashed on the world. 

It makes me wonder how you get to that point?  How do you turn your fear of that which is different into something so potent that when it breaks over the levies, everything in its way gets swallowed up in in death?

Fear of what's different?  That doesn't sound altogether right.  Of course, fear of what's different is a part of it.  But that seems too easy, frankly.  Fear of what's different is the standard answer in cases like these.

But why do we fear what's different?  I think it has something to do with the fear that we're insignificant, with our insecurities about the potential meaninglessness of our lives.  Our confidence in our own agency is so tenuous that whatever stands over against how we view the world is a threat.  We know enough native logic that A cannot simultaneously be non A.  That is to say, we know, for instance, that "World Series Champion" cannot be used as an antecedent qualifier for "Chicago Cubs."  The universe just isn't structured to allow a thing to be itself and its opposite at the same time.  We know this.

For two men in Wyoming thirteen years ago, the prospect of homosexuality coexisting in a world with "natural" sexual affinities was logically impossible.  Matthew Shepard's existence itself threatened a whole way of construing the world.

If your world is threatened, if your equilibrium is disrupted, you've got to figure out what you're going to do to restore stasis.  If violence is all you know, violence is what you bring to the existential party.

Insecurity.  Fear.  Meaninglessness.  They stand as roadblocks to an otherwise satisfying existence.

It happens.

A few years after Matthew Shepard died, on a gray day in November 2000, when the sky looked like lead and the leaves had all vanished, I went to Creech Funeral Home in Middlesboro, Kentucky, down in Appalachia where I lived, to perform a funeral for Bryan Landon.  I didn’t know Bryan; he’d spent most of his adult life up in Louisville—where he’d finally succumbed to the ravages of AIDS.  My friend Bill, the funeral director, had asked me the day before if I’d perform the funeral, since Bryan didn’t have a church home, and his family refused to provide assistance because they disapproved of his “lifestyle.”  I said I’d be happy to do what I could.  Bill said to me, “But I want you to know right off the bat that, because he was estranged from his family and his church, there might not be many folks there.”  “Not a problem,” I said.

But as I walked into the funeral home on a cold November day, it occurred to me that I’d not absorbed the full implications of Bill’s warning . . . not many people had shown up.  And by “not many” I mean, nobody had shown up.  I waited in the funeral home chapel for five minutes or so after the funeral was supposed to have started—just Bryan Landon and me. Finally, Bill came into the back of the chapel with someone I didn’t know offhand.  She sat in the back row.  Bill made his way up front.  And I said, “Oh good.  Is that a member of his family?”

“No,” he said, “that’s the woman who cleans for us.”

I looked at him, puzzled.  He said, “Well, buddy, in 25 years as a funeral director, I’ve never had a funeral where nobody showed up, and I figured somebody besides you and I ought to bear witness to this man’s passing.”

And so, on a gray November day in 2000, along with a funeral director and a cleaning woman, I buried Bryan Landon.  He died of AIDS.  Nobody who knew him came to witness that he’d ever even walked this earth.  He had a family; he’d had friends along the way; he grew up in the Baptist church, singing Jesus Loves the Little Children—all the children of the world.  But in the end, nobody came to claim him, to speak words over him, to call him a child of God.   So, we three strangers wound up offering him up to God on the wings of weary and bedraggled prayers, clinging to all the hope we could muster in a gray place.

What continues to haunt me about that day, though, is that I still cannot find words to express the sadness, the outrage, the terribleness of it all.  Where was the church for Bryan Landon?

Where's the church on this whole issue of our brothers and sisters created by God gay, lesbian, bi-sexual, transgendered?  Who stands up for them?  And what would it even look like to stand up?  I think that's the question raised by Matthew Shepard's death, by Bryan Landon's death.  What would it take for the church to make a difference in a world where people are killed, bullied, and abandoned for being who God created them to be?  What would it take?

Jesus, in our Gospel for today, has been in a long conversation with the Chief Priest and the elders of the temple.  The occasion that prompted this conversation was the first act that Jesus performed after entering Jerusalem on a donkey, way back at the beginning of chapter 21.  Remember that?  Jesus comes into Jerusalem, now a few days prior to his death, to the enthusiastic support of the people--who are convinced he's the Messiah . . . the long awaited political/military leader who will lead a revolution to oust the Roman occupation.

That little parade makes the hairs on the back of the necks of the political leadership stand up.

His first act after entering to a chorus of "Hosannas" was to go straight to the temple and start turning over the lemonade stands, telling the folks in charge that they've destroyed God's house of prayer, made it a den of robbers.  Remember that?

What happens next, though, is the really telling part of the story.  Jesus, it says in verse 14, after revealing the people entrusted with the caretaking of God's house as frauds, welcomes the blind and the lame to the temple, and he heals them.

Isn't that great?  Jesus calls out the big shots, and right under their noses receives with open arms the people those big shots have assiduously attempted to exclude.

This little jaunt into the temple makes the hairs on the back of the necks of thereligious leadership stand up.

In fact, they're so annoyed with Jesus that they button-hole him the next day, and ask him by what authority he's doing all this stuff.  Just who does he think he is?

So Jesus launches into a series of parables to tell the religious leaders who he thinks he is, and perhaps just as importantly, who he doesn't think they are.

Our parable, the parable of the wedding banquet is the third in this series, all keyed by, I would like to suggest, Jesus making a statement about who should be allowed into God's house--and what God thinks of the leaders who're supposed to be running things.

So, our parable for today, involves a king who's going to give a wedding banquet for his son.  Each time the king sends out the wedding invitations, however, they're rudely declined.  The king asks for the pleasure of his subjects' presence at a wonderful occasion, but they're preoccupied by tending to other things--things they're convinced are more important than whatever the king has in mind.

In an honor/shame based culture like that prevalent in the ancient Near East, this was the granddaddy of all social snubs.  You don't turn down a king, then beat and kill the king's slaves.

This, of course, enrages the king--so he turns over every lemonade stand in the country.   Then, what does the king do?  He invites in everybody else who wasn't important enough to get an invitation the first time around--both the good and the bad.  The king throws an enormous shindig for folks on the margins, welcoming all those people who're used to being left out of the important stuff, those who've been abused, pushed aside, excluded, those who've been bullied and abandoned to die alone.

For, you see, the kingdom of God does not exist where some are not welcome … where the lame and the blind, where the tax collectors and prostitutes, where the hungry and the poor stand on the outside looking in.  The kingdom of God does not exist where people are barred entrance because of sexual orientation or identity, because of race or immigration status.

There doesn’t have to be a sign on the door that says, “You’re not welcome here.”  People know.

Well, then, how do we tell people they're welcome?

People will finally know they're welcome–not because we advertise our solidarity (as important as that is)–but because we show them … we keep throwing open the doors and inviting people to come in.  We keep working on behalf of those who’ve been turned away by the very people who are important enough to get invited to the party.  We keep standing side by side with those left to die alone.

Ok.  That's fine.  Nice words.  But what does it mean to do the things you're saying?  What would it take for the church to accept the host's invitation to attend the party right alongside those who've been systematically told they're not welcome?

Peter Velander gives us a glimpse of what it might look like, what it I think it takes.

He writes: “I remember the day I learned to hate racism.  I was five years old."

“The walk home from school was only about five blocks.  I usually walked with some friends.  On this day I walked alone.  Happy, but in a hurry, I decided to take the shortcut through the alley.  Without a care in the world I careened around the corner.  Then I looked up—too late to change course.  I had walked in on a back-alley beating.

“There were three big white kids.  In retrospect they were probably no more than sixth graders, but they looked like giants from my kindergarten perspective.  There was one black kid.  He was standing against a garage, his hands behind his back.  The three white kids were taking turns punching him.  They laughed.  He stood silently except for the involuntary groans that followed each blow.

“And now I was caught.  One of the three grabbed me and stood me in front of their victim.  “You take a turn,” he said.  “Hit the ______!”  (I’m not going to say it; you know what they said.)  Velander said, “I stood paralyzed.”

“Hit him or you’re next!” the giant shouted at me.  So I did.  I feigned a punch.  I can still feel the soft fuzz of that boy’s turquoise sweater as my knuckles gently touched his stomach.  I don’t know how many punches there were.  I don’t know how long he had to stand backed up against that garage.  After my minute participation in the conspiracy they let me go and I ran.  I ran home crying and sick to my stomach.  I have never forgotten.

“Thirty-five years later that event still preaches a sermon to me every time I remember it.  One can despise, decry, denounce, and deplore something without ever being willing to suffer, or even be inconvenienced, to bring about change.  If there is one thing that Jesus taught us it was how to suffer with and for others.

“Jesus walked the way of the cross.  He taught us the meaning of suffering as a servant.  Perhaps my first chance to follow that example came in the ally by a garage thirty-five years ago.

“I don’t know if that black boy from the alley grew up, or where he lives, or what he does today.  I never knew his name.  I wish I did.  I wish I could find him.  I need to ask his forgiveness—not for the blow I delivered, for it was nothing, but for the blows I refused to stand by his side and receive.  I think that’s what it takes.”

That's not easy.  That's not get-up-and-go-to-church-on-Sunday-morning easy.  It's hard.  I know.  Standing up for people this culture doesn't think are worth it is hard, painful work.

But, as Father Daniel Berrigan said, "If you want to follow Jesus, you'd better look good on wood."

You see, the truth of the matter is, as a people who claim to follow a savior who was strapped to his own rough cut piece of lumber and left to die alone, we can't stand idly by and watch the world do that to even one more person.

Matthew Shepard.  Bryan Landon.  Jesus.

It's time for the rest of the children of God to stand by the side of those forgotten, abused, bullied, and left to die alone . . . and take some blows.

I think that's what it takes.

-Amen.

 

Matthew Shepard Sermon

Honesty Isn't Our Policy

Honesty, as the saying goes, is always the best policy.  If we believe that, the question is: Do we practice it?  Do we live our lives truthfully?  Now, someone might object that telling the truth and living the truth are two different animals.  That is to say, the question of telling the truth without living that truth begs the question about whether it is possible to be Charles Manson (i.e., a complete schmuck) and still speak something approximating the truth, inasmuch as it is argued that the truth is not contingent on anything outside itself to be true.  In other words, one account of the truth maintains that there is something that exists independently, objectively “out there” that is called the “Truth.”  What one needs to do when there exists competing truth claims, goes the thinking, is to appeal to the “objective standard” of “Truth.”

This formula works serviceably well when the question has to do with whether or not 2 + 2 = 4 or whether the population of Louisville is larger than that of Lexington.  If, however, the question raised is whether or not University of Louisville fans are less dedicated fans than University of Kentucky fans or whether or not Christianity is true, to what uncontestable “objective standard” does one appeal?

Absolutism, or the belief, not merely that there is an “absolute truth” but that that “absolute truth” can be apprehended by human beings—if they only “try hard enough”—is a difficult argument to sustain, just to the extent that it is possible to have two reasonably intelligent, reasonably passionate, reasonably sincere individuals disagree on where to go to find the absolute truth that will settle their argument.  Should they look in the Bible?  The Koran?  The Bhagavad-Gita?  The DaVinci Code?  Dr. Phil?  The periodic table of elements? Who gets to decide what’s true?  Or where do we expect to find the true account of truth to which everyone will defer?  Absolutism runs the risk in the end of only being able to communicate by monologue.

“Does that mean,” as many will quickly ask, “that everything is relative?  That there are no standards of truth to which we may appeal?  Do we throw our hands up in the air because there is finally no way to adjudicate between competing truth claims?”  No.  Relativism, as a set of truth claims, collapses under its own weight.  As James McClendon has pointed out: “As a general theory [relativism] seems to ask us to believe (a) that it is (in general) true, and (b) that nothing is (in general) true—and both can’t be the case” (Ethics: Systematic Theology, Abingdon, 1986, 350). Relativism as a theory of knowledge is logically absurd—or should we say, it’s only relatively true—whatever that means.

Therefore, to assert that honesty is the best policy is only to have begun the discussion, not to have settled it.  If absolutism is problematic and relativism is logically indefensible, how are we supposed to talk about truth?  Or as Pilate put the question to Jesus, “What is truth?” (John 18:38)

When asked “What is truth?” how did Jesus respond?  We are left to assume that Jesus said nothing, because Pilate immediately left Jesus and went outside to address the Jews.  Why didn’t Jesus say, “The truth is x, y, and z, and you would know that if you only studied your _______?”  Or why didn’t Jesus say, “Truth is such a slippery subject, I’m not sure we ought to waste time trying to nail it down to a single definition.  After all, all definitions are ultimately equal?”  In fact Jesus let the silence hang in the air, as if to say, “If you want to know what truth is, look at me.  I am the way, the truth, and the life.”

In a world in which we seem incapable of sustaining a conversation about truth between faith systems, perhaps the only way we have of judging their truthfulness is by observing the kinds of people they produce.  It seems to me that the only way we have of judging the truthfulness of a particular set of truth claims is by examining whether, and to what extent, there exists a people capable of embodying those claims.  That is to say, are the people named by a particular truth claim living the truth to which they appeal, or more to the point, are they living truthfully?  Do people who claim to follow Jesus, for example, live in ways that honor Jesus’ commitments?  Or, as Samuel Wells remarks: “Pragmatic tests of Christianity focus on Christian tradition and the ‘richness of moral character’ it produces in much the same way that science judges its theories by the fruitfulness of the activities they generate, and significant works of art become so in the light of the interpretation and criticism that surround them” (Transforming Fate into Destiny, Cascade Books, 1998, 86).

If I am right that the only real way to decide between two truth-claims from competing systems of belief is to look to the sorts of communities of character they produce, and if the only way to judge communities of character is by whether they produce people capable of living the claims they espouse, then living truthfully is the only way to establish the truth of those claims.  Put another way, brick-layers lay brick, cooks cook, and Christians live like Jesus.  Clearly, not everyone who wears the name has mastered all the practices necessary to be named a master craftsman in these crafts, but the shape of one’s life is determined by one’s commitment to living faithfully with the name—brick-layer, cook, Christian.  It is, after all, possible to take any of those names in vain by failing to practice, or practicing poorly, the disciplines of each craft.

However, when practiced well the very product of the craft (i.e., the wall, the cake, the life) stands as legitimating evidence of the value and veracity of the craft.  Consequently, for Christians, living truthfully isn’t only a matter of practicing the craft of Christianity well; it is the very means by which the truthfulness of Christianity is judged in a world where truth claims abound and compete.  In other words, speaking the truth is the product of a truthful life.

Tying It All Together

 When God created us, God gave us a special gift unique to human beings.  It has to do with our ability to think.  Of course, other animals can think—they have a sort of rationality we recognize.  What sets humans apart is our ability to think about thinking.  Put differently, we have an awareness that ties our past, present, and future together in, what we experience as, a long and consistent chain of consciousness.  Not only do we have memories, for instance, we can recall those memories, enjoy them, study them, and in some ways re-live them as often as we need to.  It is our memories that give us the wisdom we need to flourish in the present, and the confidence that our lives will continue to have meaning in the future.


The church, from its earliest days, has recognized the need to be intentional about attending to memory.  Every Sunday we eat a meal that recalls for us the saving love of God that has formed us into the people we are—which calls attention to a larger, but often unremarked truth: communities have memories.  And community memory must be just as assiduously attended as our personal memories.  In fact, we say that the table set by Lord is a table of remembrance.  Every time we gather around that table we set about the practice of remembering.  But a big part of what communion accomplishes goes beyond rehearsing the story of Jesus’ death, burial, and resurrection—as important as that is.  As the body of Christ, every time we come to the table we not only remember, but we re-member everyone who gathers around the table with us, past, present, and future.  In other words, the body of Christ consists of all those members who not only spread across the globe, but who spread across time.  We are who we are because of those who’ve gone before, and those whose way we are presently preparing.

Douglass Boulevard Christian Church has a memory that stretches over parts of three centuries.  At present we‘re experiencing feelings of great anticipation about what the future holds.  We’ve had many new faces in our midst who lead us to think about the possibilities ahead of us, and that alert us to God’s movement in our community.  It’s an exciting time to be at DBCC.

But as aware of the future as we are, we cannot leave the past behind.  As William Faulkner said, “The past isn’t dead.  It isn’t even past.”  That is no less true in the church, where, surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, we’re aware that who we are is inexorably linked to who we’ve been.  As we chart new courses, discerning God’s future, it’s important to remind ourselves that we’re not departing from or abandoning our past, we’re extending it.  That is to say, we’re carrying it with us everywhere we go, with everything we do (whether we want to or not).  The new kinds of ministries we’re engaged in at DBCC aren’t a departure from, but a continuation of the kinds of ministries we’ve always been engaged in—social justice, spirituality, compassion, and education.  We are busy carrying on the tradition that was lovingly stewarded, then handed down to us by those who came before.

On the surface, what we do may look different from what we’ve done in the past, but at its heart, our first responsibility—which is to to equip disciples for the reign of God—remains the same; and it ties together our past, our present, and our future.

I'm a Minister

I’m a minister.  Which is to say, I work as a minister in a church.  Historically, I’ve found myself reluctant to offer that bit of information in casual conversation, not because ministry occupies a position inherently more shameful than a host of other vocational options, but because when people find out that I’m a minister they either want me to answer their questions about I watch TBN, or they want to impart some theological nugget they’ve mined from The Prayer of Jabez or The Left Behind series.  Please don’t misunderstand—I like questions.  In fact I entered the ministry because of some of the questions I had about life and its ultimate meaning.  My problem lies not in questions in themselves, but in questions about whether or not I believe that the World Council of Churches, Democratic politicians, and certain cartoon characters on prime time television form a shady cabal intent on ushering in the anti-Christ and a one-world government—complete with standard issue UPC codes emblazoned on everyone’s forehead, or whether I’ve finally come to my senses and realized that mega-churches are the goal of God’s reign here on earth.


The fact is I like being a minister, in large part, because of the conversations that attach to a life spent following such a strange, quixotic, compelling character as Jesus.  The conversations, however, that seem to me to be important to have center on questions of justice, non-violence, grace, faithfulness, friendship, and devotion, rather than the sort of mass-produced fare provided by a popular religious culture that asks nothing more of Christians than that they act nice, refrain from swearing in public, and support any military action proposed by the American government as, ipso facto, God’s will.

To put a finer point on it, I like being a minister at Douglass Boulevard Christian Church.  I’m blessed to belong to a community of faith that takes seriously our call to live out the example of Jesus in the best way we know how.  DBCC is a community unafraid to take a chance on following Jesus down a dark alley.  I like that.  I like the sense of adventure I find at DBCC, as well as the adventurous thoughts I have when I think about what we can do together.

I guess this is all a long way of saying that my thoughts about ministry have evolved since coming to Douglass.  Many of the things I do don’t even feel particularly like work.  In fact, now when I’m asked what I do, I tell people I’m a minister at this really great church that seeks justice for the marginalized, that provides embrace for those who’ve been excluded, that looks into the eyes of the forgotten and says, “You’re welcome here.”  Though we’re not perfect, we are constantly looking for ways to grow and be better.

I’m a minister.  I just thought you should know.

Mary Ann Lewis: "What If..."

Both Derek and Ryan are on vacation, so DBCC has a chance to hear from Rev. Mary Ann Lewis, one of the (many) ministers in our pews each Sunday.

Preaching on Matthew 14:22–33, Rev. Lewis reminds us that God doesn’t expect us to walk on water; but, God does expect us to get out of the boat and serve as God’s partner in the continuing unfolding of creation.

Despite our fears (of failure, of loss of agency), the right question isn’t “What happens if we do?” The right question is, “What happens if I don’t?”

We must make room in our hearts for the claim of God on our own lives.

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Derek and Ryan should leave town more often! This is a great sermon.

Click the link below for the sermon audio or just subscribe to our podcast in iTunes and you won't miss a single sermon…

"What If..." by Rev. Mary Ann Lewis

Who's Steering This Thing?


"Now therefore, O kings, be wise; be warned, O rulers of the earth.  Serve the LORD with fear, with trembling kiss his feet, or he will be angry, and you will perish in the way; for his wrath is quickly kindled.  Happy are all who take refuge in him" (Psalm 2:10-12).

In the uncertainty leading up to an agreement on raising the debt ceiling, the financial markets have taken a hit.  As I write this the Wall Street Journal is reporting that the Dow Jones is posting its "first seven session slide since July 2010."  Republicans and Democrats are fighting it out to to see who will be able to claim to represent "what the American people" want.  What bothers me, though, is that while both are laying claim to exceptional financial vision, they will try to situate themselves as having been right all along, while both will say that the other side of the aisle has been hopelessly tone-deaf to the needs of "the American people," and is therefore incapable of managing the ship of state.  Inherent in such a political argument is that somebody, or some party of somebodies is ultimately in control—that all that stands between us and happiness and prosperity is the right political representation and the silencing of the opponent.  Precious time is wasted while the parties speak about their ability to exert dominion over the economy.  I hope the irony doesn’t escape us.

I love to feel in control.  I imagine, therefore, that other people feel this way.  Further, I imagine that people who have power are prone to feeling this way (which is probably why they got into the power business in the first place).  The illusion that we can ultimately order our world in such a way as to preclude inconveniences like poverty, crime, racism, discrimination, and danger is presumptuous at best, and idolatrous at worst.  We live and move and have our being in ways that suggest we have conjured up life, movement, and existence by our own initiative — by having such things as a sound domestic policy and a strong military.  We have repeatedly failed to see that life itself is a gift.  We have no more real control over our world than we have over God.

And maybe that is the point: We think perhaps that by our tireless organizing and speculating and legislating that we can finally impose order on God — and in the process become (of sorts) gods ourselves.  The problem with that, of course, is that God is even more stubborn about maintaining control than we are.

Thank goodness for that.

Now therefore, O kings, be wise; be warned, O rulers of the earth.