1 Corinthians 12:26:"When one member suffers all suffer, when one is honored, all rejoice."
 
The word for the day is dissent. Cleveland Heights sometimes has a skunk problem and he left "de-scent" all around my house. I know; it stinks. But some times, you have to laugh before you can think.

We have been looking at the "PUP" report in adult study, too new to be dog-eared, but already having an effect on our denomination. "PUP," a search commissioned by our General Assembly taking four years, intended to create a season of discernment; but in fact, is causing a season of discontent. A quest for "Peace, Unity, and Purity" that is turning out to be a "troikan" chariot– three horses pulling, the most difficult to drive– a troikan chariot with those seeking purity presuming it is referring to being holy, forgetting we all live in sin and that it is only by grace that we are saved. Not understanding that when we divide the world between the Godly and the un-Godly, hating the un-Godly becomes a religious obligation in support of dogma and we deny the gospel of love.

Purity, pulling not in tandem but against unity, (which is the rallying cry of those who seek to be one at any price,) giving up our church's precious tenet of "refrum-reframundum–" reformed and ever reforming– aligning the church with power instead of with the victims of power; making an apartheid existence, which is anything but the church of Jesus Christ.

Both horses are pulling against that peace "that passes all understanding." "Peace, Unity and Purity," the "PUP" report, innocent, and hope filled, but turning into what might become something of a mad dog. Angry because it has been kicked so often it doesn't know an opportunity when God puts it on a plate.

Having just returned from the Covenant Network annual meeting, that group within our denomination that this congregation belongs to and is committed both to the unity of our church and to the inclusion of all persons that they might freely serve– having for the tenth time been part of that gathering, our struggles seemed to be an important subject to address and yet, this is a season of thanksgiving, so who wants to hear about disharmony when we want to sing, "We gather together to ask the Lord's blessing?"

Sometimes the best place to discover good theology is in the comics. Cartoons often cut to the heart of life, Calvin and his stuffed tiger are careening down a hillside on a red wagon. Calvin exclaims; "We all want meaningful lives. We look for meaning in everything, but suppose there is no meaning. Suppose life is fundamentally absurd! Suppose there is no reason, or truth, or rightness." Then, as the two plunge off a cliff, suspended in mid-air, Calvin says, "What if nothing really matters?" Hands over his eyes, Hobbs replies, "I guess there is no harm in a little wishful thinking." Still falling, but now upside down Calvin gasps, "Or suppose everything matters; what would be worse?"

The dissension in the church means little or nothing to some, but to others it means everything. It determines if people are accepted in the very church that baptized them. To others of different theological persuasion it means acceptance of another without that person becoming different than the way they were born, which is an abomination that rejects scripture and historic church doctrine. It is a contentious time because what we believe is always at the heart of a heated debate. So, it is we who need to remind our selves that the real word for the day is struggle, because struggle is the name of faith's journey.

• A widow asks, "How long will my heart keep breaking?" She can't imagine continuing, but she gets up each morning and puts one foot in front of the other using her grief to re-invest herself in people's lives.

• Another person discovers she has lost her self-worth. Life is a long lonely journey until she realizes that there are people who will stand with her no matter what she has done.

• A family is shattered and the pieces need picked up. It is overwhelming at times until they discover they are not alone.

• A man hears the diagnoses and begins treatment, but the side effects are worse than the disease.

• A teenager thinks there is no future; a college student sees nowhere to turn.

• There is a person caring for an elderly parent, the treadmill of each day running into the next, except for an interlude when someone steps in to give a little relief.

• Maybe you're just trying to be a good parent, but between work and soccer schedules, band and paying the bills, you begin to wonder if the church, with all its squabbles, matters a hoot.

The road is long and we begin to wonder if anything matters, and I have to tell you, there are lots of times I don't have any answers. All I can tell you is what keeps me going. In the midst of all the controversies, I find that "cheerleading" from the sidelines doesn't amount to much. What does make a difference is when I have someone standing beside me.

I can tell you it matters when we hand someone a Kleenex and simply listen to their story. It matters when children given to our care come to know faith by action and not just words. It matters when anyone who feels excluded comes to know that God really does love and accept them. And it matters every day when I get up and re-invest myself in life, thanking God for however little or much I have, and then turn toward someone else's need.

It matters that we keep deepening our faith because the depth of faith broadens our understanding of others. It matters each day when another's life is touched with a smile or an encouraging word. Paul, so often discouraged, immersed in early church controversy, understood when he said; "When one of us suffers, all suffer and when one is honored, we all rejoice." Why should it be any different today? Struggle is the name of faith's journey.

A young friend asked me, "Where is grace in a world like ours?" I thought of the Amish parents whose little girls were so senselessly slaughtered. The blood was barely dry on the schoolhouse floor when they sent words of forgiveness. They greeted the wife of the killer and her three children, and established a fund for the family. That kind of grace enabled them to begin to move from the paralysis of analysis, letting understanding rest in God's hands as they practiced the forgiveness clause in the Lord's Prayer.

In a recent article in the Presbyterian Outlook, two authors write, "Our goal (in the PUP report) was unwavering fairness of process and the commitment to listen carefully.” Out of that dialogue came four recommendations affirmed by the General Assembly almost unanimously, calling every member to witness to the church's oneness that with one voice we can glorify God. It urged us to enter into dialogue with those with whom we disagree. Doing so not to persuade, but to learn and grow from the wisdom of one another; and finally, Presbyterians were to use the report, modeling the task force's tolerance as the basis for study and growth.

Had the whole church focused on those four ways of working together grace might have blossomed and still might. But much attention has been placed on a fifth recommendation that dwells only on who can be ordained and who has the power to control. Power, the one subject avoided by the commission. The one thing sought after by some that can prevent us from being a church at her best, fully engaged, committed to unity, humbled enough to test the opinions of others, and patient enough to let God work through us. If we are to prevail as a church and the wisdom within this report is to come to life, all members of our greater community will have to learn the balance of faith found in a God of opposites. A God of mysteries beyond human understanding, we will have to learn to trust in that God more than ourselves.

So where do we as Presbyterians, especially those of us committed to a progressive acceptance of others, find our place in the church and what difference does all of this make?

An old Hasidic Rabbi was asked by a student, "How can you tell when a new day has arrived?" He turned the question around saying; "Tell me how you know?" The student guessed, "Is it when you can make out a silhouette of a tree against the sky?" "No," said the Rabbi. Then he added, "The surest way to know when the night is over and a new day has come is when you can look into the face of a stranger, the one who is different from you, and recognize that person as your brother or sister. Until then, it will always be night." Familiarity breeds not contempt, but respect.

In these times, there is no more important mission for us than to make a place for those living in darkness:

• To listen in love to one another,

• To create places of light for those who are rejected, excluded, that they might know safe haven,

• To provide support for those who need it while they are struggling with whatever their pain is,

because that is the church being the church.

When I look at the long history of the church, I realize that while she has not always been at her best; when she has, it has been when she has not been afraid of controversy and debate. She has been at her best when, at the same time, she is most focused on the care of others within and without.

There is hanging in the Chapel of St. Augustine, at the College of Preachers at the Washington National Cathedral, a wood and bronze, almost life size, Celtic cross. Attached to the wood is a statue of Christ, but not in cruciform, rather with arms wrapped around another that he is holding tight. Its title is, "Welcome Home." That is the God I know and that is who we are called to be like as we reveal God's community of hope to the world.

So, in spite of our troubles and controversies, in spite of this season of discontent, when we look at the long history of the church, we need to remember that she grows slowly. Remember that resurrections only occur in cemeteries. Resurrections happen only when hopelessness hangs in the air; yet, it is there that faith takes flight pointing to that which is greater than us all. We need to remember that resurrections never come in times of rest, they only happen when grief is heavy and people of faith are wondering if anything really matters. Yet, those people are still ready to give thanks to God from whom they believe all of their blessings flow.
 
Martin Luther King began one of his sermons with the story of a famous mystery novelist who died. He left in his desk a number of plot summaries, one of which read, "A widely separated family inherits a house in which they have to learn to live together."

Here is the challenge before the Presbyterian Church in these days. It is the challenge among all Christians. It is in fact the challenge before all peoples of faith who follow the one creator, God, in whose image we believe we are made. Can we learn to live together? Only in so doing, do we honor our God who gives us life and breath and every part of our very being. Only in so living, do we truly give thanks.

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