Changing Course

It is hard for me to think that almost six months have passed since we packed up our lives, said goodbye to North Carolina along with our family and friends, and arrived in England.  Timothy, Laura-Clare, and I disembarked the plane in London and embarked on quite an adventure.  It has certainly been one filled with excitement, adjustment, surprises, fun, learning, and joy!  We have been living a dream and experiencing life and ministry in Thatcham and beyond and in The Methodist Church.  We anticipated much in our coming here and have encountered even more, and for this I am truly grateful.

Although we have been immensely blessed, this time has not been without important personal reflection.  While maneuvering this adventure, we have been faced with discernment and decisions.  Along the way, I expressed to Timothy my own uncertainty about the duration of our time in England.  I began to recognize that I couldn't really envision this family experience into the more distant future.

It was at this point that we found ourselves in the midst of particular discernment and decision-making, and it was in my being honest that I began to understand with more clarity.   It became clear that our original plans would need to change, and so through prayerful consideration, Timothy and I met one another in a new, shared vision for our family's future.

We decided that we would claim this year on its own as our great England adventure and that we would make plans to return to North Carolina in the late spring.  It was the right decision to make but a very difficult truth to tell.  Honesty is not always an easy practice, but fortunately, we have been met with love.  I have expressed my appreciation to the Circuit and the churches, as they have responded to the news of our departure, and the following is a portion of what I wrote for the most recent church newsletters.

  "Please know that we did not come to this conclusion without much prayer and searching. We did not intend for our experiences here to turn in this direction, but in being honest with ourselves and with one another, we found it necessary to change our plans.  We certainly do understand that our decision impacts the ministry life of the church and the Circuit for the future, but we continue to trust in our God who is faithful and hope that you will do the same.
  I am humbled by your kindness and compassion in light of our situation, and I will appreciate your continued prayers, as I will hold you prayerfully close at heart as well.  I thank you for the time that I have had in Kingsclere Methodist Church and Thatcham Methodist Church, and I look forward to sharing ministry with you for the time ahead.  May God bless you in your faithful service."

As we have shared our story and disclosed our plans, we have truly been met with nothing but compassion and concern.  We have been offered Christly kindness and respect.  And we are thankful for the body of Christ that stretches far and wide, especially throughout this portion of south England.  Our first-hand knowledge of this far-reaching love is a gift!  I have received an outpouring of support from folks, but one email in particular has meant a lot to me and expresses so beautifully what I have felt so often amidst this experience. (It will remain anonymous.)

            "It seems it's all change again, and just wanted you to know you are in our thoughts and prayers.  Please let us know if there is anything we can do to help with your smooth return home.  Amy, in your short time with us you have been a breath of fresh air and I hope you feel the experience has had some upside.  This is a crowded island we live on and as [we] have travelled the world, we have become increasingly aware that the wider UK population rarely appreciates or supports its Christian heritage.  We try to teach [our family] that they have a lot to learn by broadening their horizons and to try new experiences is better than not to try at all."

I deeply appreciate receiving this email, knowing the foundation of faith on which it rests.  It exemplifies the very loving kindness and compassion that I have been offered since the moment I arrived.  These generous words also say something particular to me about this journey and about what we are able to learn from others within another cultural context.

I have been profoundly enriched by living my faith in south England, and I can't help but believe and reiterate the words, "[T]o try new experiences is better than not to try at all."  Yes, yes! And so I will make the most of our time in England before changing course and returning to North Carolina at the end of May, and I will be thankful for how it has helped to shape profoundly my life and faith!

Watching (Not So Intently), But Watching

We shortened Laura-Clare's day at nursery school so that we wouldn't miss the Inauguration. I usually pick her up just a few minutes before 5 p.m., and being that we are five hours ahead of EST, I would have missed the event completely had I been in transit (especially since the main road that links my route is CLOSED - ugghh!).

On the way home, Laura-Clare and I discussed President-elect Obama.  I explained that there would be a new US President (she was not really following), and so I offered her something that she understands the best.  I told her about the Obama family.  I explained that the new President and the First Lady are the daddy and mommy to two little girls.  She responded, "Who?"  I told her about their daughters, and she said, "Can they come to my house and play?"  I made no promises but with a grin reveled in that image for a moment.

So, upon arrival at the house, we positioned ourselves in front of the television to watch the events unfold.  And amidst her comings and goings, we showed Laura-Clare the two little Obama girls, and we witnessed the Inauguration.  As documented below, she watched and made it through but not without several requests along the way for her "little girl shows."  Nothing personal, Mr. President!!

President Barack Obama

Vice President Joe Biden

I Will Tell Her!

I am watching the events of this Inauguration Day at a distance; yet, amazingly my being in England feels no farther away than if I were in North Carolina. Global communication and media access really do blur the miles. So, I will witness the live coverage today, as Barack Obama officially becomes the President of the United States.

I will share the occasion with my husband and my two year old. We will celebrate and always remember where we were when! And we will claim this memory for Laura-Clare as well and recount the events for her when she is older! After all, this is an occasion not to be missed, and this is a course of history for which we should be thankful! No doubt, I will tell her! Yet, there are some things about today that I would rather her not know.

I don't really want her to know that there are people who think their political opinions are more important than the historic milestone that is this Inauguration Day. I don't want her to know that people are more interested in criticizing on a day like today than respecting the monumental occasion that it is. I don't want her to know that people are so self-revolving that they think our election of the first African-American President is of little significance.

I read a troubling Facebook status this morning of a person who is more concerned about calculating numbers in order to prove a political point than about setting aside opinions in order to be respectful of people and of history in the making. I find myself rather concerned about this spirit of negativity and hopelessness. Okay, so I really don't take Facebook statuses that seriously; yet, I can't help but think even beyond the Facebook status about this person's voice of skepticism, criticism, and (I suspect) racism.

I am certainly not suggesting in my own reflection that judgment or division are appropriate even though I am concerned about the message being offered by this person. But, honestly, I don't want my daughter to know this voice.

Instead, I will tell her where she was when President Barack Obama stood before the world and committed his life to service, to hope, and to change! I will tell her what his election means for a country that has been plagued by racial injustice! I will tell her that no matter what our race, our background, our opinions, or even our Facebook status we do not divide ourselves from anyone!

This is a day that I will celebrate! And I will tell her!

Change!

With permission, I am posting a piece written by my husband, Timothy Moore. I am grateful for his reflections and feel compelled to share them. Although it was crafted several months ago during the election season, it is timely for this MLK day and for this Barack Obama pre-inauguration day. Let us celebrate realized hope and hope that has yet to be realized!

Change!

Rosa sat so Martin could walk,
Martin walked so Obama could run,
Obama ran so our children can fly!

This viral text message began circulating, first, around the United States and, then, around the whole world the morning following Barack Obama’s election as the 44th president of the United States. The text message captures a sentiment, an emotion, a hope defining Obama’s election. His election has taken on mythic qualities. Images of long lines of young and old, rich and poor, black and white, the frequent voter and the first-time balloter were everywhere. Something different had taken place. Whether conservative or liberal, American or not, we all can recognize the significance of that vote. Obama’s election tapped into something deeply felt, patiently yearned for, thought lost yet waiting to be found.

On one day, it was as if an entire society awoke from a forty year slumber to be reminded that freedom is not just a dream to be hoped for but a life to be lived. Such a life does not happen by accident but through intentional, direct action. Sometimes that action is in the form of dramatic stands taken despite the threat of social discomfort, familial rejection, police dogs, and assassin’s bullets. Sometimes that action is a very visible, public spectacle.

Yet, with this election, we were reminded that sometimes that action is less dramatic, less public. It might seem to be less profound. It takes place with a door being knocked, a phone call made, a conversation had, an email sent. It takes place in the solitude of a voting booth. It begins with one pen marking a ballot, one finger on a touch screen, one hand on a lever.

And, in that solitary moment, one heart’s desire for something radically new is transferred from distant dream to present reality. A vote becomes the incarnation of hope springing from a single soul. Slowly one becomes two become four become a chorus of 66 million souls crying out that forty years has been long enough, rousing the slumbering giant of freedom, signaling for a new generation that faith truly is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not—yet—seen.

Obama’s election marks forty years since Martin Luther King, Jr.’s voice fell silent, reminding us that dreams of liberation don’t always come right away. But, for the church, we shouldn’t be surprised by this story. It is one we’ve heard before.

When Moses went to confront the Pharaoh to demand God’s people’s liberation, liberation did not come easily. It took plagues. It took persuasion. It took determination. It took time. Then, after a change of heart, Pharaoh consented and let God’s people go. Yet, after Moses secured the liberation of God’s people from the bonds of slavery in Egypt, he realized that while their bodies were free their souls were not ready. They might be walking towards the Promised Land but their hearts remained captive to the land of the past not equipped for the promised future. It would take time. So Israel marched.

They marched from forty years. Forty years of prayer. Forty years of preparation. Forty years of wandering. Forty years of waiting, waiting for their moment and the next generation to lead them into the Promised Land.

Along came Joshua. Joshua offered a new hope. The hope was not just the future hope of a liberation that might come one day but the promise of liberation delivered, today. Sand became salvation as wilderness became water—the waters of the Jordan River. By wading through the Jordan, Israel moved from the shadow of their past into the dawn of a new day, a present future. In those waters, Israel washed away the old, making way for the new.

Forty years had passed. Forty years used to make a people ready for liberation.

With this U.S. election, the church finds itself in an interesting position. For the first time in years people are publicly expressing transcendent exaltation. They are speaking about the real, tangible call for hope’s manifestation in identifiable ways. Average, non-churched people are speaking our language; they are speaking the church’s language. They are crying not just for the possibility of new hope but the material signs of it. That is where we come in.

If the church is anything, we are the purveyors of a story of hope, a hope in the liberation that comes through the life and death of Jesus Christ. This hope is not just some ethereal, dreamy, distant state. It is a real, physical, different-making story. It is the story of a God that is not satisfied with the status quo, a God who is not happy with how things have been, a God who demands a radical change in our politics, in our economies, in our families, in societies, in us. It is the story about liberation of the heart, soul, and body. It is the story of liberation demanding in real-time for the real world that “justice roll down like waters and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream.”

Our story—the Christ story—is a story about a world-changing, people-liberating, hope-incarnating God. It is the story that just might be the very story for which the world has been waiting and needing to hear. It is the story we are all ready to hear.

The events of this November’s election in the U.S. are a concrete reminder that what people are interested in are not uncertain time frames of possible future promises but present arrivals at the shores of change. Such change will not happen by accident. Neither will the church’s poignant narrative of liberation be heard if it is not offered and intentionally woven together with cries from the waving fabric of humanity ready for change.

What appropriate, timely viral text message might the church have to offer in response to Obama’s election and the world’s hopeful cries? This one might do.

Moses spoke to the power of Pharaoh.
Martin spoke to the Powers that Be.
Joshua led from wandering to winning.
Barack leads from winning to wondering.
Wondering: What does the Promise expect of me?

Welcome, birthdays!

We just returned from a wonderful, much-needed vacation to the Scottish Highlands. We spent 9 days just outside of Grantown-on-Spey and Aberlour right along the whisky trail and even reconnected with dear friends in our old stomping grounds of St. Andrews. We had been to the Highlands previously but only for short breaks at different destinations. So, an extended stay was a lovely change of pace. We were more than happy to spend the long, dark mornings by the fire and the long, dark evenings by the fire. And in between during the short, windy days, we explored beyond the fireplace.

In addition to the joy of a relaxing, family vacation, we had reason to celebrate. It was the Amy and Timothy birthday season. It was a very special experience to celebrate our respective birthdays in the Highlands of Scotland and to welcome 35 in such a memorable way!! Highlands or not--wonderful memories or not, I still can't help but stumble ever so slightly along the number 35 and wonder if I could really possibly be talking about myself.

I have always thought that only other people should be in their thirties, not me. Do you know what I mean? Have you ever felt this about your particular age? I guess it is all about a perception of age really, and for some reason, I find it rather difficult to perceive myself as a thirty-something year old. I can see my sister as a thirty-something year old. I can see my brothers-in-law as thirty-something year olds. But me? When did this happen...? Okay, so I know when it has happened because it happens every year at the same time, but somehow I still feel like a twenty-something that has fit a thirty-something worth of stuff into her life.

Yes, it happens every year at the same time on January 9th. My birthday roles around 15 days after Christmas while everyone is very comfortably in a post-Advent/Christmas/New Year fog. If not careful, this January 9th birthday of mine can be very sneaky. Generally, people are very kind to remember me in the midst of the post-seasonal madness, especially my hubby, who happens to share my birthday one day delayed. Being that Timothy celebrates his birthday on January 10th, he understands all too well what it means to welcome a new birthday year in the midst of seasonal haze.

At this point, I am not sure how either of us can really be 35. It's not that I think 35 is old, but it is in some strange way that percieved age of other people. Maybe it isn't so much the age as it is all of the adult things that go along with 35 for us. Maybe it is the vocational life in ordained ministry (i.e. full time jobs). Maybe it is the picking up and moving thousands of miles from home. Maybe it is the almost 13 years of marriage, 17 years of commitment. and 18 years of friendship. Maybe it is the home mortgage. Maybe it is the almost 3 year old in our household. Yes, maybe it is the almost 3 year old...

Now that I think about it, maybe it has less to do with the actual number and more to do with the circumstances and responsibilities of life that we claim at 35. And in the midst of it all, my hope is to hold firmly to my carefree, exciting twenty-something spirit that I remember so vividly while at the same time being a joyful, responsible adult, wife, and mother. Without a doubt, I have welcomed 35 with a grateful heart, and despite the strange perception that it brings, I happily share it with my wonderful and generous husband and give thanks for our journey together.

As I once again watched January 9th and 10th come and go with a beautiful view of the hills of Scotland before me, I realized that our soon-to-be 3 year old was more excited about our birthdays than we were. My perceptions didn't matter. She didn't care if it was 35 or 350. The age was irrelevant to her. Birthdays to her no matter what the year are just plain thrilling!! We drew from her energy and welcomed 35 with even more thankfulness!

And now she is waiting with excitment for her own special day! When that time comes, we will happily welcome yet another birthday and will be the responsible, 35 year old adults, who make the practices of birthday joy come to life for the newly 3 year old girl! Welcome, birthdays!