The first full day I’ve spent in Charlotte has been… full. The actual legislative process begins Wednesday, but delegates, staff, bishops, and news teams are all running around preparing for the next week and a half. I’m writing drafts that may not ever see the light of day, but as a wise friend said, “It is always easier to edit than to create.” Doing the basic research and work now will save me trouble in the long run.
I took a break from prep to go get lunch with a friend. Delicious curry at a good price. I’d do an ad pivot, but I’ll retain the sanctity of this blog for now. The lunch itself carried a deeper reality to it than good food though. Connection is what defines us as human beings, more than anything. To sit and talk with someone: to celebrate and speculate, to laugh and to commiserate. It is a holy thing.
The thought that sat with me as I walked around the circumference of the Conference Center and the nearby park was the importance of remembering. I may never be in Charlotte again, but I am here now. There will never be another 2020 2024 General Conference, but there is now. The brickwork in the center of the park and the aggressive rushing of the fountain. The awkward engagement photoshoot next to the columbarium of a Catholic Church. All of these are things that I have to appreciate while I am looking at them, because I may not see them again. I can never see them as I see them now, that much is certain.
I see things both funny and serious as I wander. I find it hilarious that a statue showcasing the wonders of the written word seems to be accidentally implying the foundation of all literature is Sophocles’s Oedipus Rex.
Then there are the more serious observations. Beside the columbarium, where the faithful dead rest, there is a statue of St. Ignatius of Loyola. He stands with an arm outstretched, and that hand he has put forward is worn. There have been countless people who reached their hand out to the Saint and held it. In prayer? In desperation? It does not matter, but people saw the face of Ignatius and in it saw a source of comfort they had to feel to truly know.
I took hold of Ignatius’s hand too. I looked in those bronze eyes and spoke to him. I do not know my full feeling on how we are to engage with those who have gone to glory. I know our Articles of Religion call the invocation of the Saints, “a fond thing, vainly invented…” Yet I do believe that all the faithful dead remain conscious of us in paradise. I trust they still pray for us.
So I spoke to Ignatius, the man or the idea it does not much matter.
“Ignatius, you founded the Jesuits. I don’t know if that means we would agree on much if we met or not. However, I believe we are both men of God, and that is enough. Ignatius, pray for all of God’s people, and do not forget your siblings, the Methodists, for we sorely need it.”
I hope we all may continue to pray. There is life and hope abundant, but we must see it and embrace it to fully know it. May the Saints below and the Saints above never cease to ask God to care for God’s Church. Here, as we United Methodists gather, I pray God will work wonders here in Charlotte.
Teach us to Number our Days 