220th Annual Conference Des Moines, Iowa July 1-5, 2006

Index	Theme	Friday	Saturday	Sunday	Monday	Tuesday	Wednesday	Wrap Up

Kelly Burk, pastor of Richmond (Ind.) Church of the Brethren - photo by Keith Hollenberg

A different square of the Conference logo will be highlighted each day. Saturday's focus was on scripture. - photo by Justin Hollenberg

"In Light of Scripture"
Psalm 119:97-112, 129-136
by Kelly Burk

I was ten years old the day I received my first bible. My grandmother said that if I memorized one verse, she'd give me the small, beautiful wooden bible sitting on her living room shelf.

The verse I learned to recite was John 3:16. Join me if you know it. "For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him shall not perish, but have everlasting life."

I wish I could tell you that day was the beginning of a long love affair with scripture. But I can't. Instead, my love for scripture has grown over time. I've gone from admiring the packaging on the outside to trusting the wisdom on the inside. I've shifted from finding cute the stories I learned in Sunday school, to marveling in wonder the passages that help give meaning to life.

Over the years, I've also wrestled with the disturbing realization that while scripture is the foundation which binds us together as Christians and as Brethren, scripture is also at the center of our most painful disputes.

"Nothing gets your heart racing faster" a friend offered in response to my plea to discover a clever connection between scripture and this year's Annual Conference theme of "Exercise Daily in God."

The off-the-cuff remark was right on. Anyone who has taken part in a heated discussion over biblical interpretation knows the energy required is equivalent to that of a cardiovascular workout. Maybe more. Personally, I prefer jogging.

I'd like to believe that none of us enjoy arguing over scripture. For we know it contradicts the very spirit of that over which we are arguing. But because the text means so much to us, we find it mind-boggling and downright infuriating when someone interprets the bible in sharp contrast to the way we understand it.

Several years ago, I was on the receiving end of such anger. I led two bible study sessions on the book of Esther at a Regional Youth Conference. Attendance was good. The youth seemed engaged. I left feeling that the sessions went well. Several weeks later, I received a letter in the mail.

"Dear Ms. Burk, Some of our youth attended a session that you instructed and were very upset by one of your comments. Our youth did not agree with you, and they were very upset that they were subjected to these comments.

"In fact, some have stated that they do not want to return to any further conferences. They simply wanted to come and worship the Lord and fellowship with friends, but they came home feeling confused and that their trust had been broken."

The comment the youth found upsetting was my explanation that the book of Esther is not a strictly historical account. Rather, just like parables told by Jesus, Esther is a story told to illustrate a point.

The explanation came straight from several commentaries well-respected by biblical scholars. "Did I say anything inaccurate?" I asked several colleagues well versed in the Old Testament. "No," one responded "but for some, the suggestion that the bible includes stories that are not historical fact, feels like an attack on the validity of scripture."

The experience left me baffled. I'd driven several hours and volunteered my time to lead the study out of my love for the scriptures and for youth. But because of significant differences in theology for which I was unprepared, several youth evidently left feeling angry and disillusioned.

They weren't the only ones. I felt blind-sided. Why didn't the youth raise their concerns during the session? How was it that the first I'd heard of the dispute came in a letter from adults several weeks later?

When we find ourselves running up against differences in theology, the easiest approach is to discount those with whom we disagree. To accuse the other as having little or no regard for the bible or as people who use the bible selectively to their own ends. To declare those with whom we disagree as less than good Christians - people to whom it's not worth talking or subjecting our youth.

Much harder is confronting the troublesome reality that good, faithful Christians for whom the bible remains the foundation of faith and life sincerely disagree in theology, style, and practice.

When my husband Aaron and I first moved into our current house, our new neighbor came over to introduce himself. He had heard that I was a pastor and one of the first things he said to me as he nodded his head and held strong eye contact was "it's great to know that we will have a good Christian neighbor."

He said nothing untrue. I am a Christian and I was his neighbor. But between the large wooden cross in his front yard and his language 'good Christian neighbor,' I immediately assumed he was the kind of Christian who makes a lot of assumptions about other people's religious beliefs and political convictions.

Did he assume I believed that only Christians can be good neighbors? Or that being a Christian automatically meant that I was a good person? Would he expect me to vote a certain way or judge me if on occasion I mowed my yard Sunday afternoons?

I'm embarrassed to admit that I spent the next year and half until he moved away talking with this neighbor as little as possible. And what conversations we did have, I was sure to keep shallow.

"Your grass sure looks good, Harry!" Or "That was some serious snow we got last night!" Once when Harry was trying to tell me about how regularly he reads his bible, I quickly changed the subject and avoided a discussion about faith.

For a year and a half, I justified this lack of real interaction because I couldn't stand the idea that he was making a lot of assumptions about me based on so little information. Honestly, it wasn't until a few months ago that I realized I had been doing just that!

Maybe it's the Brethren in me. But simply because Harry was comfortable - even committed - to conveying his beliefs to others, I assumed he was pious, moralistic, and someone to whom I'd rather not relate.

Interestingly, I had the same reaction to Psalm 119 - the scripture given to me for this evening's sermon. At first, I had trouble with the way the psalmist seems to be bragging about his dedication to scripture and his superior understanding of God's Word.

"Oh, how I love your law!" the psalmist declares. "It is my meditation all day long. Your commandment makes me wiser than my enemies. I have more understanding than all my teachers. I understand more than the aged. I hold back my feet from every evil way. I do not turn away from your ordinances." Sounds pretty presumptuous if you ask me.

Not until I read this psalm more carefully did I begin to recognize the psalmist's remarkable openness to receiving God's living Word. "Deal bountifully with your servant," the psalmist prays "so that I may live and observe your word. Open my eyes, so that I may behold wondrous things out of your law."

The New Interpreter's Bible Commentary points out "To be sure, the psalmist exhibits an unmistakable torah piety. The psalmist is thoroughly devoted to God's word and is intent upon a faithfulness to God that includes obedience.

"But the psalmist shows no trace of legalism or self-righteousness. Rather, the psalmist is thoroughly aware of his or her own failings, of the need for grace and mercy, of dependence upon God for life and future. In short, the psalmist is open in the broadest sense to God's instruction."1

A deeper look at the honest wrestling the psalmist was engaged in revealed an openness and a depth of faith I wasn't expecting. Perhaps if I'd made a similar effort to better know my neighbor Harry, he too would have surprised me. I guess I'll never know.

Most of us live with so many preconceived opinions, we're less open to God's instruction than we care to admit. Last year at the Festival of Homiletics in Chicago, I had the humbling experience of hearing Fred Craddock preach. He began by telling us this was his seventeenth sermon on the Prodigal Son. His point was this:

"As we age, it gets harder to read scripture. Not because our eyes increasingly require more light or that the bible be held further and further away. Reading scripture gets harder as we age because of our ears. Increasingly, we struggle to hear the text because the memories of earlier interpretations drown out our capacity to actually listen."

I would add that it also gets harder to listen to each other. For instance, when someone approaches the microphone to speak at Annual Conference, notice how easy it is to presume to know what he or she is going to say based on with which segment of the denomination the person associates.

Brethren Revival Fellowship - oh, he's going to speak about being biblically sound. Voices for an Open Spirit - she's going to tell us to be more inclusive. New Life Ministries - here comes the frightening "E" word - evangelism. Association of Brethren Caregivers - not Kathy Reid again reminding us to scale back on ice cream and lighten up in more ways than one.

The point is, memories of earlier encounters with one another drown out our capacity to actually listen. Fatigue and frustration could explain our lack of attention. But I suspect that if we dig deep, we'd discover that we stop listening when we're afraid:

Afraid of each other. We'd rather not receive any angry letters.

Afraid of being unsure. We live in a society that equates uncertainty with lack of faith.

Afraid of becoming extinct. We obsess over whether the Church of the Brethren will exist in 20 years.2

Afraid for our society. We suspect tolerance contributes to the demise of family values.

Afraid for the bible. We fear differences in interpretation will diminish respect for The Word we hold so dear.

As Christians, as Brethren, fear has become so pervasive in our faith, that we are increasingly disconnected from who we are and who God calls us to be. We have a rich heritage that encourages full participation by all members, depth in theology, community living with all its blessings and quirks.

But our fearfulness stifles the blessings of community, making it hard to hear each other. We talk past one another, avoiding the frank but engaging dialogue that enriches faith. We're unwilling even to glance toward our neighbors as we jostle for position, darkening the way forward.

Psalm 119 offers the shared promise of God's guiding light: "Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path" the psalmist exclaims. But the light shines not only at the psalmist's feet. Scripture illuminates the paths of us all. What we so easily forget is that we share the same path, a path brightened when we recognize the light that shines from everyone's lamp.

Several months ago Echo Petry, a beloved 86 year old member of the congregation I serve, was living her final days on Earth. She knew her death was imminent, as did we. On several occasions I had the privilege of spending time by Echo's side.

Initially, she shared with me her hopes and her fears surrounding death. When Echo could no longer communicate verbally, I simply held her hand, stroked her head, and read to her from the Book of Psalms.

"The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want." "O God, you are my God, I seek you, my soul thirsts for you." "Be merciful to me, O God, be merciful to me, for in you my soul takes refuge." "I lift up my eyes to the hills - from where will my help come? My help comes from the Lord who made heaven and earth."

As I read, Echo's labored breathing eased and a visible sense of peace came over her. The beloved texts which she'd heard throughout her life served in those moments as a light for her path to life eternal. Thanks be to God!

Brandon Grady, a Bethany Theological Seminary student in his twenties, has been blind since the age of twelve. Born in India, he was given up for adoption once it became evident a severe form of glaucoma would leave him without sight.

Being blind in a sighted world has its challenges, Brandon admits. Unable to drive, he depends on others for rides. Participating in worship and singing in multiple choirs entails memorizing all of the music and words. Keeping up with graduate level courses requires Brandon to arrange for others to read aloud his seminary textbooks.

"How do you do it, Brandon?" I've asked. I wonder how he finds the energy and courage to live such a dynamic life when most of us, if faced with his challenges, would live a life centered on our own needs.

"Matthew 6: 33-34" Brandon responds without hesitation. "But strive first for the Kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. So do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring worries of its own. Today's trouble is enough for today." The gospel of Matthew - a true light for Brandon's path. Thanks be to God!

On paths such as these, does it make any difference what version of the bible was read or how we interpret the particulars of these passages? Not really. What matters is how these scriptures offer light to Echo and Brandon.

But what about the light of scripture as it shines for congregations in our denomination who feel that only men are called to set apart ministry? Or those congregations who believe that gays and lesbians should be eligible for ordination? What about congregations who struggle over whether or not to have a flag in the sanctuary?

Faithful Brethren who hold dear and cherish God's Holy Word read the same scripture and end up in very different places. This is nothing new. We come to the Word with diverse experiences that encourage us to ask different questions. And for that, let's be thankful! Not afraid.

Do we have enough faith to trust that while none of us fully grasps The Truth, each of us carries a lamp that shines a ray of light on that truth? We can only appreciate the whole truth when we bring our lights together - even when we differ.

The good news is that no amount of genuine wrestling with the text or respectful dialogue with each other will ever diminish the power of scripture. God's Word is stronger than our fears. Whether we're living our last days on earth or deciding how we want to live... God's guiding light can heal us, inspire us, transform us, and humble us. For God's word continues to speak within us, between us, among us, and sometimes in spite of us. Thanks be to God!

--Kelly Burk is pastor of Richmond (Ind.) Church of the Brethren.

Members of the 2006 Annual Conference news team, a ministry of the Church of the Brethren General Board, contributed to the Annual Conference web pages: Jake Blouch, Cheryl Brumbaugh-Cayford, Kathleen Campanella, Eddie Edmonds, Karen Garrett, Clara Glover, Amy Heckert, Keith Hollenberg, Jill Kline, Sarah Kovacs, Frank Ramirez, Jesse Reid, Regina Roberts, Frances Townsend, and Becky Ullom.