Methodists’ Love

The person who doesn’t love a brother or sister who can be seen can’t love God, who can’t be seen. —1 John 4:20

    For the past several months, the devotions for the weekly staff meetings have included reflections on a book entitled “The Innovative Church: How Leaders and Their Congregations Can Adapt in an Ever-Changing World” by Rick Cormode. One of the most startling and almost offensive assertions in the early part of the book relates to “The Big Lie.” When I was a child, my parents did not permit my brothers and me to use certain words; lie was one of the words we were not allowed to say. Cormode insists that one of the key tasks of a leader is to identify “the big lie” to help others move forward. Obviously, “the big lie” is something that is untrue. However, what is most deleterious about “the big lie” are the things that you believe, and the things that you do not do, as a result of “the big lie.”

    One of the indicators of maturity is the ability to think critically about a variety of topics. As cognitive skills increase, we are able to think critically about a variety of ideas simultaneously. Can you remember some of the beliefs that you held strongly as a child. In many instances, those beliefs couldn’t survive careful scrutiny. As  a child, I believed that all dogs were male and all cats were female. I also remember the awkward conversations and embarrassment when caring adults tried to help me “think through” my firmly-held beliefs. Upon hearing my logic, one of my parents’ adult friends asked me “where do kittens and puppies come from?” I had no idea how to answer that question and the adult friend quickly realized that there was no possible follow-up to the line of inquiry that she had initiated. I am certain that everyone in my life was relieved to know that a few years later I learned that all animals are male or female.

    Throughout my adolescence and even into adulthood, I have continued to reflect upon that glaring example of how difficult it can be to change firmly-held beliefs. I don’t really know how I reached the conclusion as a child that all dogs were male and all cats were female. I can imagine that it was the peculiar amalgamation of animated figures depicting dogs as big, mean, aggressive, strong and other qualities often associated with masculinity and animated images of cats as small, delicate, passive and other qualities often associated with femininity. The attempt by the well-intentioned adult to realize the connection between males, females and reproduction was much, much too complex for my young mind to conceive. At such a young age, I didn’t have the capacity to appreciate the lesson she had hoped to teach.  

    Carmode uses the concept of “the big lie” to demonstrate how restricting firmly-held beliefs can be. These beliefs make it difficult to change in ways that allow us to increase our effectiveness.  In the case of churches, many congregations can become deeply mired in beliefs that reduce their impact. He argues that churches are uniquely calibrated to do ministry in a time that no longer exists. Are there examples of times in which you’ve held beliefs so firmly that not only were you unwilling to change, you were unable to fully appreciate the conversations others were attempting to initiate?

    One of the other words that we were not permitted to say as children was “hate.” My parents not only believed that the word conveyed an emotion that was much too strong for any child to experience, our parents wanted us to focus more upon love and having loving relationships with others, especially members of our family. Being the youngest of three sons, there were many times when my brothers and I would become engaged in arguments that would become so heated, they would end in the words “I hate you!”  When my mother heard us argue and use the word “hate,” we would have to hug and say “I love you.” (We very quickly learned not to have heated arguments around my mother. Please note, we did not learn the lesson at that time that we should love rather than hate, we learned that there was a “more appropriate time” to express hate.) Only years later would my brothers and I have the capacity to appreciate the lessons that our parents were trying to teach about our choice of words and the importance of loving each other.  

    In the final chapter of the book that we are using for our church-wide study “Five Marks of a Methodist, Expanded Edition: The Fruit of a Living Faith,” Steve Harper addresses the topic of love. He opens the chapter with a quote from John Wesley— “One who loves God, loves our brothers and sisters also” from Wesley’s book “The Character of a Methodist.” This quotation can be considered a piercing rephrasing of the well-known scripture from 1 John that was included at the beginning of this article. In many ways it seems that we are increasingly socialized to categorize things and people based upon our personal opinions and experiences. These opinions are expressed in extreme polarities of hate and love, even when our experiences with the things and the people described are quite limited. Rather than daring to entertain the possibility of the accuracy of a differing perspective, we “double-down” on our opinions and perspectives. Chapman notes that the longest section of Wesley’s book “The Character of a Methodist” is an exposition of the second great commandment: God’s call to love our neighbors as ourselves (Mark 12:33).

    While we may often talk about the things and  the people that we love and that we hate, it may be very helpful in our neighborhoods and in the church, if we examine again the impact of the words we choose. One of my former Sunday school teachers, Keith Henderson, at my home church, St. Stephen UMC would often remind us of the wise words from Proverbs “as a man thinketh in his heart, so is he” (23:7). Are our thoughts more about loving our neighbors and sharing God’s love or do we feel that we are more often surrounded by words expressing hate?

We are looking forward to seeing you in worship and in class. 

Live in peace, 

Jon McCoy

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HYMN STORIES: The Songs We Sing