Thirty-eight Years Too Long

On my next to last Sunday at Cashiers UMC, I was more than just relieved that it wasn't time yet for my final sermon. I was grateful to hear a sermon by someone else, Dr. Mickey Efird. I didn't have the opportunity to be in a class taught by Dr. Efird while I was a student at Duke Divinity School, so it was a joy to receive his morning message. He lifted up the story of the man at the pool in the Gospel of John, and it resonated very clearly with me.

Now in Jerusalem by the Sheep Gate there is a pool, called in Hebrew Bethzatha... One man was there who had been ill for thirty-eight years. When Jesus saw him lying there and knew that he had been there a long time, he said to him, "Do you want to be made well?" (John 5:2, 5-6 NRSV)

Dr. Efird offered a much more interesting translation of the phrase, "Do you want to be made well?" He suggested that a more faithful reading of the Greek would be, "Are you willing to receive healing?" The nuance of this alternate reading is both eye-opening and challenging.

The former phrase from the NRSV requires a simple "yes" or "no" or maybe even duh!...of course!...yes. The latter phrase to some extent requires more than a simple "yes" or "no." It encourages and maybe even demands introspection, honest self-reflection, and heartfelt desire for change, especially in light of the man's lengthy stay at the pool.

When asked about his willingness, a simple "yes" or "no" would not suffice for the man at the pool, considering he had positioned himself in the same place for THIRTY-EIGHT YEARS! There would definitely be more required in his response. Something had kept this man by the pool for all these years. After all, as Dr. Efird said, "For some reason this 'ole boy didn't even try to role himself into the water." In turn, Dr. Efird allowed for some speculation within this story, and so he offered four barriers that might have caused thirty-eight years worth of difficulty for this man.

First, he might find himself to be a barrier. Sometimes facing self and being honest is most difficult. Second, he might find the world to be a barrier. It may just be easier to hide and ignore rather than to confront the struggles, sadness, and overwhelming needs in the world. Third, he might find other people to be a barrier. Interacting with people requires vulnerability, and amidst conflict and pain it may not seem worth it. Fourth, he might find a fear of failure to be a barrier. There might just be too much cost in taking a risk.

And now, Jesus is standing before the well-positioned man at the pool and is looking him in the eyes. "Are you willing to be healed?" He must overcome the thirty-eight years. He must overcome the barriers. He must set aside the excuses. And he must trust (maybe for the first time in his life).

Then, the man hears the commanding words of Jesus: "Stand up, take your mat and walk." In an instant, the well-positioned man found himself on the other side of barriers and excuses. He allowed Jesus to transform, to open his life up, and to draw him away from the side of the pool. I can imagine that he not only became a man that could walk, but he became a man who would see the next thirty-eight years very differently.

Are you willing to receive healing? Are you willing to trust? Are you willing to be made new? Are you willing to receive grace? Jesus can liberate us from the barriers and excuses that keep us too well-positioned. Jesus can transform us into people who see the gift of a new journey.

I am willing.

I don't ever want to be so well-positioned that I am unwilling to move. I don't want to be the same person that I was yesterday. I don't ever want to be able to say that I waited thirty-eight years too long.

Conference Conversations

I made my way through the congested roads with my immediate destination at heart and in sight--Lake Junaluska, of course. I creatively found a parking space, as to be in close walking distance--"create-a-space," of course. I maneuvered amidst the masses--United Methodist masses, of course.

Specifically, I was amidst United Methodists from all over the left half of North Carolina for our annual conference meeting, which happens at the same time each year.  We descend upon beautiful western NC at Lake Junaluska, and we meet.  Of course, we meet to share faith-filled connections and for official Conference matters, but really we meet for conversation and catching up.  We see long-time friends.  We talk.  We become acquainted with new colleagues.  We talk.  And then, we talk some more.

On Wednesday night at the clergy session, it was revealed to those present that my husband and I would be appointed at churches in England.  Those gathered voted and made it official.  And the chattering began along with the questions.  Where are you going?  What will you be doing? etc. etc. etc.  We joyfully shared our story (the short version), again and again.

"We will be living in south England in Berkshire County, an area one hour southwest of London.  We will be serving separate appointments and will be in two adjacent Circuits.  We will be living in a town called Thatcham, which is not too far from the well-known tourist destination of Windsor.  We have had an interest in returning to the UK for another experience, after having lived in Scotland two years previously, and so we applied to serve directly through The Methodist Church in Britain.  We complete our current appointments in June, depart for England in August, and begin our ministry appointments on September 1st.  We are thrilled about the opportunity, and we eagerly anticipate our new experiences!"

(Definitely, the short version.)

The clergy members voted and the Bishop set the 2008 appointments at this session of Annual Conference, and my husband and I continue to claim our story--long or short.  In our telling, there is joy...!  In our sharing, there is excitement...!  In our speaking the words, there is reality...!  Yes, reality...  And after being with the masses of United Methodists, things are now really sinking in.

I think about all that is familiar.  There are long-time friends and colleagues on the North Carolina side of this journey, sending us forth with blessings and encouragement.  They are listening and sharing our joy.  They are thinking about the possibilities of visiting.  They are pleased for our willingness to set out on this adventure.

I think about all that is yet to be known.  There are new friends and colleagues on the England side of this journey, offering words of introduction and kindness.  They are welcoming us even before we arrive.  They are planning for and awaiting our arrival.  They are gearing up to share in our adventure.

With England in mind, I do understand the reality of such a move.  On the one hand, I am sensitively aware that there is much of the familiar that will be at a distance.  On the other hand, I am equally as certain that there is much of the great unknown to be experienced.  So at this point, I must be content and find a balance between the two.  Thanks to the chattering, the talking, and the heartfelt conversations amidst the United Methodist masses, I have become more comfortable with the reality of life transformed and have drawn closer to the goodness of adventure.