I live in Mayberry/Mount Airy NC with my lovely wife and two awesome boys. It's the American dream, I tell ya. I have a great job and enjoy teaching and playing music on the side. I stay busy and have to remind myself to slow down a bit and soak up this big wonderful sponge called life. I want to make the most of every day I've got.
I have this weird fascination with church marquees - those interchangeable signs strategically placed in front of church buildings. In one sense I'm attracted to them, the same way that I can't look away from the car wreck on the other side of the interstate as I drive by. Like a moth to the flame, I'm helpless to their lure.
On the other hand, I find myself doing a lot of face-palming, either figuratively or literally. And not only because some of them - and you know the ones I'm talking about - express a theology and biblical understanding that has little or nothing to do with the God I know. It's also, in my opinion, the worst kind of advertising.
Because that's what these marquees are, functionally if not intentionally - advertising. A form of outreach and evangelism. I mean, they're right there outside the church's main entrance, in some cases larger than the sign with the church's name on it. Every so often the message changes, thus catching our attention. Everything about them practically screams, "Look at me! This is who we are!" And like it or not, they tell a story about what kind of church lies on the other side.
And I don't get it, honestly, what possesses some churches to tell the stories they do. Maybe they're not intended for public consumption and are meant more for the people inside - in which case perhaps that's where the signs should be. That's they only way I can make sense of it. I mean, who is going to drive past a church with a marquee that essentially tells them they're going to hell and think, Hey, sounds like the place for me!
Like the saying goes: "First impressions are lasting impressions. And frankly, I'm rarely impressed.
My church doesn't have a marquee - a blessing, as I see it. Every now and then, though, I daydream about what it might say if we did. What kind of "advertising," what kind of story would it share? To that end, I've created a few of my own, void of cheesy wordplays and ghastly theology. You can do the same, by the way, HERE if you want. Knock yourselves out. Feel free to add your own marquee slogan in the comments below!
(Note: the following are my own messages and don't necessarily reflect the church I gratefully serve. Don't want anyone to think one person is trying to speak for everyone - the issue with church marquees to begin with).
Okay, so granted, it wasn't the best planning on my part. Nevertheless, less than 24 hours after the closing of the 2013 NEXT Church Conference in Charlotte, there I was: lying on a hospital bed in the pre-op, all gowned up and ready to go. It was a torn meniscus that had brought me there; and in standard surgery fashion there was a whole lot of "hurry up and wait." Three hours of it, in fact. So I had plenty of time to think amidst the beeping and humming of machinery and the impending dose of drugs that would send me off to la-la land.
(and as a quick aside, I think every pastor should have surgery at some point in ministry, preferably for an actual ailment that requires it. I'll never look at hospital visits and pre-surgery prayers with parishioners the same again, having been in the bed rather than standing beside it.)
Anyway, so I had a lot of time to think in that pre-op room. And I won't lie to you: I thought about NEXT.
I thought about this relatively new movement in the Presbyterian Church (USA), described on its Facebook page as "sparking imaginations, connecting congregations, and offering a distinctively Presbyterian witness to Jesus Christ." I thought about the way co-organizer Shannon Kershner further explained that it is not an affinity group pushing any doctrine or issue currently being contended with ad nauseum in our denomination. The one thing that binds those in NEXT together is relationship. Relationship with each other and relationship with Jesus. The fact that NEXT makes this their focus and stubbornly refuses to be parlayed by any special interest group or agenda is precisely why I and many others are on board with it.
I thought about all the people there, around 650 of them. Honestly, it was like a high school class reunion for not one year but twenty or thirty. Pastors and laypeople, friends and new faces. Retired preachers and folks not yet ordained. Southerners and Northerners, Midwesterners and West Coasters. And a new category made possible in our social media age: people I've known for a year or more, conversed and engaged with, but have never actually met in person until now. A shout-out to Facebook and Twitter for creating this new way of knowing people, where the first face-to-face is not the beginning of a great friendship but the continuation of it.
I thought about something Steve Eason said in his sermon on Monday evening worship - something that struck me as tweet-worthy:
I think this speaks to a major reason why NEXT Church has taken off the way it has. We all recognize the cultural shift the church has endured over the past 50 years. Gone are the days where no one dared hold a soccer game on Sunday mornings; where pastors were bestowed with de facto mayor-like authority in their communities. Study after study has shown the sharp decline in mainline denominations that's reflected in greater pew vacancies and shrinking budgets. For some, the only appropriate response is an alarmist mindset rooted strongly in fear. NEXT, however, chooses to view these changes in a positive light as God's intentional process of creating something wonderful and new.
Around this time, some lady stuck me with an IV, so I had to think about needles for a minute. When she was done, though, I went back to thinking about NEXT.
And I thought about all the wonderful speakers. And you know the really cool thing? They weren't the "big names" you typically see at these type of events. That's not how NEXT rolls. What they're more into are the unsung heroes who are quietly doing some amazing "next-ish" things in their contexts. So we heard from the Caucasian man and African-American woman who have teamed up to revitalize a defunct and crumbling church facility in Philadelphia; the seminary president who used thirty seconds of a Janet Jackson video (FYI, it wasn't "Nasty Boys") to share the story of a growing student body that at one point numbered seven; the Washington DC-based pastor who unpacked worship liturgy as improv; the pastor in Columbia, SC who equated God's spirit to live music as opposed to 16-bit MIDI. Every voice mattered, official speaking role or not; and it had nothing to do with the size of one's congregation or how many degrees are hanging on the wall.
I thought about what is NEXT for the church - something that is tempting to immediately jump to, like the kid who stares at the wrapped present under the Christmas tree wondering what's inside. I thought about the fact that this journey we're on in the NEXT Church is not a formula or five-step plan that can be implemented in actions steps to acheieve "maximum results."
NEXT is more like jazz, really. The Spirit moving in and through us, gently reminding us that we're not directing the band but are the called and equipped players offering our unique voice and gifts to the ensemble. And the sound that is produced is the sound of a church that is not looking to be "successful" as much as it's striving to be faithful.
That's all that I was thinking. And then they wheeled me into the OR and hit me with the good stuff. I don't remember much after that, but I do remember the last thought on my mind was how there is no better and more exciting time than now for the church to be thinking about what's next.
This video made the Facebook circuit last week. There's a whole generation of folks today who don't know Mister Rogers Neighborhood, and that's a shame. They probably won't appreciate this video much. But for those of us who grew up with the cardigan zipper sweaters, sneaker changes and trolley trips to the Neighborhood of Make-Believe, this will be fun little trip down memory lane - in a 21st-century kind of way.
Fun trivia fact: Fred Rogers was an ordained Presbyterian minister. So he and I have at least that in common.
As we are deep in the thick of the gift-giving season, I'm proud to share that I'll soon be giving you all some brand new music! Love>Fear, my upcoming two-song EP, will be released on the morning of December 31st for your audial consumption.
(And as an aside, I don't know if a two-song project technically counts as an EP, but let's roll with it for the time being).
Why an EP release on the last day of the year you ask? The tunes - Your Radiance and Greatest of These - were written for Seeking Stars, the 2012 Collegiate Conference at Montreat on January 2-5. This is a fantastic national conference for all college-aged folks with some amazing keynoters and preachers like Sara Miles, Gabe Lyons and J. Herbert Nelson. Somehow in that incredible lineup, I got asked to lead music. And I decided, in addition to doing the standard praise and worship repertoire, that I'd write a few of my own. Your Radiance is based on the conference's scripture and is a co-write with my good friend Jerry Chapman. Greatest of These is not tied specifically to the conference theme, but was one of those beautiful songs that came in a flash.
More about the songs later - just know that on New Year's Eve, as you watch the 23-some football games that'll be on TV, you can turn the sound down and listen to some new tunes. It'll be available as a digital download from iTunes, Bandcamp, and CD Baby.
Get psyched. I sure am! And a Merry Christmas to you all.
The phone rang, as it does throughout the day in the offices of First Presbyterian Church. Lynn, our office administrator, was on the other line in the office next to me, so I picked up the phone. First Presbyterian Church, this is Steve.
A pause, then a stumbling voice: Steve....uhh, are you okay?
Odd way to start a phone conversation. I assured him I was. It was a church member on the line, one who runs a local business in town. For some reason he seemed genuinely concerned about my welfare this morning.
Yes, Bob, I'm fine, thanks! How are you?
I'm doing okay. I was just worried - I read the email.
You may be asking the same question I did: What email?
He went on to tell me that an email was circulating around the community that morning about me - that I had fallen ill, that I was in the hospital recovering from some unknown illness, and that me, my family and my church needed to be kept in everyone's prayers. This, of course, was news to me.
I've got the email right here, Bob said. Want me to forward it?
While I was waiting for the email to make its way through, I shared with Lynn the weird developing story of my mysterious hospital visit. Then the phone rang. It was from someone else calling to the church to see what was wrong with me. They had gotten the email too. News - even incorrect - spreads fast.
I heard the "ping" of my email inbox and found Bob's forwarded message. The subject line read: "Informational Update on Rev. Steve Lindsley's health and wellness." Oh boy.
I understand that Steve Linsley, pastor of First Presbyterian Church, checked into Forsyth Hospital about 7:00 AM today. When you talk with other staff members today, They may like to know this. You may need to call FPC for update. I got this off of Facebook today.
That was the initial email, which was then forwarded by its recipient to God-knows-how many people. Now Bob's phone call and the one that followed made sense - as well as the third one that came in while I was reading the email. What didn't make sense was where someone had gotten the idea that I was sick and had gone to the hospital.
I got this off of Facebook today. Who in the world would post something on Facebook about me being in the hospital? I mean, I had been there earlier that morning to visit a church member who had gone in the previous night, but....
Uh-oh.
Like a lot of Facebookers and smart-phone users, I use a little app called Foursquare to "check in" at various places. It lets folks in the social media world know where I am. Almost always I'll leave a comment explaining what I'm up to: Checking in on a church member. Visiting an old friend. But for some reason I didn't that morning when I opened Foursquare on my iphone.
So this is what appeared in my Facebook news feed for all to see:
Lesson learned: in the social media world, always leave a comment explaining what you're doing when you "check in" at a hospital. And be thankful for the kindness and concern of people who call to check on you if you don't.
I’ve said it before – I love airports. There’s something about the random humanity that fascinates me. I’m in an airport as I write this – Chicago O’Hare, to be exact – at some concourse restaurant grabbing a hot dog. Aptly titled “the Chicago.” I like the way my waiter pronounced it when he brought it to me – “CHI-cago,” not “SHI-cago” like us non-residents are prone to say. I gladly stand corrected.
I’ve spent the past week in the Windy City at McCormick Theological Seminary. You know those people who have elaborate plans to tour all major league ballparks? A few years back I decided to do the same thing with Presbyterian Church (USA) seminaries. I know, not as exciting; but as I'm proving at this very moment, you can still get a hot dog. Anyway, there are nine or ten of them, depending on how many you count in the mix; and including the three I attended for formal schooling I’ve been to six: Union (Richmond, VA), Columbia (Decatur/Atlanta), Pittsburgh, Louisville, Austin and now McCormick in Chicago. I’m always amazed by the diversity of the schools and the people associated with them, but also all the things they share in common. Every school in their own unique way is making a difference.
I usually try to attend some specific event, like a conference, but if that’s not available I’ll spend a few days just studying and reading. The latter was my intention when, back in the summer, I pulled up McCormick’s web site. And then my eyes caught a little blurb about their brand new Certification in Environmental Ministries and Leadership. Anyone who knows me can certainly understand my immediate interest. I was getting spousal permission and plane tickets within days.
The program is spearheaded by four faculty and involved ten participants from all over the country and beyond (a gentleman from north of the border joined us). We met for three days, two of which were seminar-style discussions and one “field trip” day to a local conservation. Lots of incredible conversation and insight. In many ways its getting back to some of the core Biblical and theological emphases on "creation-care" that we seem to have lost in recent years - captured quite eloquently in a comment I remember someone making in our local curbside recycling brouhaha last spring: that "God loves people, not the earth" (there's this little thing called John 3:16 you ought to check out...) It's helping me fine-tune my perspectives and passions on the issue so I can do my part to help the faithful reclaim an important conversation that's been sorely neglected.
Anyway, this was part one of two trips - we’ll be back in early 2012, after which we’ll have a project to complete. And as much as I enjoyed the program itself, I also fell in love with Chicago. The seminary is located in Hyde Park, on the south side of town. I came to love the neighborhoods and my daily walks through the University of Chicago campus to some friends who graciously opened up their guest room for me. It was also cool to reconnect with some old Mount Airy peeps (and a former Mediocre Bad Guy band member) who moved up here a year or so ago. Hyde Park is a fantastic place, bustling with activity amidst old-school buildings and homes, ornate trees, and two – yes, TWO – organic coffee shops. Take that, Starbucks.
Lots to think about as I board my flight home in an hour – including my strategy on how to get to my parked car as quickly as possible so I can to book it home in time to make a Mediocre Bad Guys gig. Enjoy the pics that follow, and pay special note to the incredible rainbow that greeted me this morning as I prepared to depart. I'll take it as a sign that this week was time well spent.
Downtown Chicago skyline via Grant Park on a gorgeous day
Chicago Harbor. Bet this looks different in January.
Home of a certain famous Chicago residence who currently resides at 1600 Pennsylvania Ave NW, Washington DC. About two blocks from the seminary. Pleasantly waved to the Secret Service guy parked across the street before snapping this pic.
Went on a jog one morning and headed six blocks east to Lake Michican. Got there in time to see the sunrise. Add this to my collection of awesome sunrise running pics.
Our Certification group visiting Glacial Park about two hours outside Chicago
So I was walking to my last class Saturday morning with suitcase in tow right in the middle of a rainshower. Kind of a pain, until the sun came out and I stopped at 55th Street to see this. If it's not a sign of the promise, at the very least it's a Starbucks PR dream.
I don't usually try to write a song in a week. Heck, I'm lucky if I can pen a decent tune in a month. But sometimes the creative muse flows freely, as it did this past week, and I don't ask why when it does.
The chorus came first; I started humming it in the car on Tuesday. The rest came later that afternoon. It's not done yet - more tweaking to come, I'm sure. I know for certain I'll transpose it to piano, not only for a better overall feel but mainly because the open tuning on the guitar sounds too much like this silliness, and I just can't have that.
I sang this today in worship at the end of my sermon. It's not the greatest quality, but not too shabby for a lapel mic and standalone (props to Mark Brown for his A/V acumen). I hope to use it when I lead music for the 2012 Montreat Collegiate Conference too, on piano. I think it'll work nicely as a singalong.
So - a song in progress. Let me know your thoughts. Lyrics below...
I may speak with the tongues of the angels I may give my all away I may move the mountains with my belief But if I don't have love - If I don't have love... I can use my power for selfish gain Living like I wanna live I can die a martyr and a saint But if I don't have love - If I don't have love... I once couldn't see Now I believe, I believe
In faith, hope And the greatest of these is love Faith, hope And the greatest of these is love, greatest is love
When the world defines you by what you do Love will show you whose you are All a part of God's great family This is why we love, this is why we love Battles rage and lines are drawn in the sand Cause we learn to live in fear Love comes down with the promise of something new It’s greater than the fear, love is greater than the fear Sometimes we can't see Lord help us believe, believe
In faith, hope And the greatest of these is love Faith, hope And the greatest of these is love Greatest is love
Today was our Youth Sunday service. This is where the youth of our church conduct and lead pretty much every aspect of Sunday morning worship. There may be an adult or two behind the scenes doing something, but for the most part the youth run with it. Without fail, it's always an amazing worship experience. It's one of the very few times I fear for my job security.
But something was up this morning. Something was afoot. And I couldn't put my finger on it. It's just that folks were acting strange around me. I sat with the youth and adult advisors running through things in the sanctuary early in the morning, just kind of hanging out; and I got this strange feeling that I wasn't wanted there. I can pick up vibes like that. So I went back to my office to look through the morning bulletin. And that's when I was struck by the title for the anthem the kids were going to sing. It looked pretty hifalutin' for a youth-led worship service:
"I ancora haven' la t ha trovato che I' ricerca di m."
French, perhaps? I checked Google Translate. No luck. By that time the worship service was almost about to start, so I left the office and headed to the sanctuary to sit with my family (a rare treat).
Turns out it's Italian for "I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For" - a U2 classic. That's what they were singing. And while it fit in perfectly with their worship theme of having questions and doubts but remaining strong in the faith, they also did it as a surprise for me. You don't have to know me very long to pick up on the fact that I'm a pretty big U2 fan.
They did great. Apparently they had worked on it for weeks; with the help of some adults and our new music director. All without me finding out. You gotta like that. There were about 25 of them singing and playing away. It was priceless the way they smiled at me as the song began; as I made note of the familar chord progression and remembered the service theme and kind of put two and two together.
What was really amazing was hearing our young people sing it. As I mention in this previous blog post, contrary to initial impressions, this song is really a song of tremendous faith and belief, despite the title. Or actually, because of the title. We're faithful, we believe, but we're not satisfied. There's still work to do. We still haven't found what we're looking for. To have our youth up there singing this was an amazing testimony. It got some rare Presbyterian applause at the end. And I wasn't the only one who found myself a little teary-eyed.
I encourage you to check out the entire worship service HERE. At the very least, devote the next four minutes of your life to listening to our Beacons singing this song below. Thanks, guys, for the surprise! In so many ways, that is something you never fail to do.
It was the spring of 1997 when presbyteries across the country voted on what was then known as "Amendment B." The language, which was eventually approved by a majority of presbyteries and ratified as part of our church's constitution, would do something that had never been done before: single out one issue by which those seeking to be ordained as ministers, elders or deacons would be measured:
Those who are called to office in the church are to lead a life in obedience to Scripture and in conformity to the historic confessional standards of the church. Among these standards is the requirement to live either in fidelity within the covenant of marriage between a man and a woman, or chastity in singleness. Persons refusing to repent of any self-acknowledged practicewhich the confessions call sin shall not be ordained and/or installed as deacons, elders, or ministers of the Word and Sacrament.
Meanwhile, as presbyteries were debating and voting across the country, I was blissfully lost in the seminary world as a third-year student, wrapping up my last semester. My focus was on papers, final exams, and most importantly landing that all-important first call. I was marginally aware of the politics taking place in the greater church I was preparing to serve, but I was told two things by reliable people. First, this new amendment, if approved, would not affect me, since I was not gay. Second, it was doubtful churches and presbytery examination committees would ask me anything about it in the call process, since the vote was still in progress.
The "reliable people" were wrong on both accounts. The new amendment very much affected me as a life-long heterosexual, as its original authors chose not to use direct language like "gay" and "lesbian" in their exclusiveness. Instead they opted for a convoluted "process-of-elimination" lingo that read more like an advanced calculus problem. Single and married folks were unwittingly dragged into the mix. "Chastity in singleness" - who still used the word "chastity," anyway? Besides, it wasn't like I was planning on suddenly beginning a life of hedonism upon being ordained. So what was the point?
They were also wrong about the topic being off-limits in interviews. I was meeting with a presbytery's Examination Committee, pursuing what would become my first call. The meeting was going pretty much as I was told it would: pleasant conversations about theology, polity, what kind of pastor I'd be. Near the end, though, a crotchety old man brought up the Amendment B vote that was making its way across the country. This particular presbytery had already voted, I was informed, but how would I have voted if I had been a member there? He practically had "litmus test" written on his nametag. Thanks a lot, reliable seminary people.
The "Fidelity and Chastity" amendment, as it's been called, has been with me for my entire time in ministry. In fact, I guess we kind of entered the ministry together. And while I've found a home for myself here, our denomination never got comfortable enough with Amendment B to let it move in to the guest room. Critics have consistently pursued courses of action to have it overturned. Supporters have held to it rigidly and threated a mass-exodus if removed. The debate has brought out lots of the bad in the church: division, vitriol, mistrust. Oddly enough, it's brought out a little of the good too: passion, commitment, a desire to seek God's will. But mostly the bad.
There have been attempts to remove or replace the amendment in the fourteen years since, but all have failed. Until this past Tuesday, May 10th. That was when Twin Cities Presbytery in Minnesota became the 87th presbytery - a majority - to vote in favor of replacing Amendment B of 1997 with Amendment 10-A:
Standards for ordained service reflect the church’s desire to submit joyfully to the Lordship of Jesus Christ in all aspects of life. The governing body responsible for ordination and/or installation shall examine each candidate’s calling, gifts, preparation, and suitability for the responsibilities of office. The examination shall include, but not be limited to, a determination of the candidate’s ability and commitment to fulfill all requirements as expressed in the constitutional questions for ordination and installation. Governing bodies shall be guided by Scripture and the confessions in applying standards to individual candidates.
You'll notice the language is quite different - and language matters. Gone are terms that shamelessly exposed our obsession with sex. Instead we find authority being placed where it should've been all along - submission to "the Lordship of Jesus Christ" (you'll note that "Jesus" is notably absent from the former amendment). Gone is language that limited and restricted how churches and presbyteries engage in the call process. Instead, those agencies are fully empowered to more effectively do the work they're entrusted with. Gone is rhetoric that defined ordination standards in negative terms (who is not qualified). And the obvious: gone is the air of exclusivity that has weighed down the church like a ball and chain. Instead we find a more inclusive mindset regarding who can serve the church as an ordained minister, elder or deacon.
Now - it goes without saying that there will be some who won't welcome this change. Human sexuality, for most folks, is one of those "dig-in-your-heels," "no compromise" kinds of issues. There are very few fence-riders. Already there have been threats of individuals, even entire churches, jumping ship and leaving the denomination. These actions, if followed through on, would be ill-advised.
For one, it's not like they're suddenly going to start busing ordained gays and lesbians from some undisclosed location to churches all over the country. This amendment does not force churches or presbyteries to call homosexual persons to ministry - it only removes the prohibition against it. In essence it fully empowers the governing bodies of our denomination entrusted with calling and examining ordained individuals to do their job. Does this mean some may still rule an individual unfit for ministry because of their sexual orientation? Yes. But it also enables those same bodies to call a person based on their complete gifts for ministry, sexual preference notwithstanding. Either way, the decision is completely up to the church or presbytery who is meeting with this person and considering their ability to serve.
Besides, while a lot will change with Amendment 10-A, a lot won't. And ironically, one of the things that won't change is the ordination of gays and lesbians! For, as pointed out by my Presbyterian minister colleage in this blog post, we already have gays and lesbians serving as ministers, elders and deacons. Every denomination does! Presbyterians have been ordaining them for years, even during the tenure of Amendment B. That's because in some instances the individual has remained silent about their orientation. In others, those around them have engaged in a sort of ecclesiastical "Don't ask, don't tell" - because they understood the power and significance of a call to ministry.
And that, for me, is what it all boils down to; and why I personally welcome the change and the language of 10-A. I hold very sacred the notion of a calling to ministry. I know first-hand what it's like to receive that call; how it brews inside you over many years, how you catch glimpses of it at various points in your life. It is part of who you are like the cells in your body or the breath in your lungs. You can't escape it, you can't rationalize your way out of it. It is who you are. And to have a blanket denial of someone's call built into our church's constitution, where one issue is singled out over all others - well, that's never sat well with me. Especially when it involves something that's also part of who a person is. Just as one doesn't "choose" their sexual orientation, one doesn't "choose" to be called to ministry. It chooses you.
And so I welcome 10-A; not because I claim to know every nuance of God's will, but precisely because I don't. I welcome 10-A; not because I lack faith in the way our denomination discerns those who are called to ministry, but precisely because I have full confidence in it.
Still, I know this decision is painful for some, in the same way that the decision to keep the old language the past fourteen years was painful for others. I pray for those who are pained by this decision, and I hope we continue having respectful conversations about human sexuality. I've posted this blog post on my church's website in hopes that it will clarify what this new amendment means - and doesn't mean - as a member of First Presbyterian Church and the PC(USA).
And when it comes to those who are thinking of walking - well, I've thought and prayed a lot about this over the years, knowing this day would probably come. And I think I've figured out what my response will be. I won't try to talk them out of leaving, nor will I attempt to change what they think or believe. I don't think either is the pastoral thing to do.
Instead I will simply ask for six months: a six-month moratorium on the decision to leave; six months to continue worshipping, serving and being an active part of our church together. Six months of Sunday mornings and Wednesday nights, Bible studies and Sunday school, fellowship meals and missions. I'll invite them to meet with me when those six months are over. And if at that time they can honestly say they've felt a palapable change in our church as a result of 10-A, that our particular congregation is no longer witnessing to the resurrected Jesus Christ, then they will leave with my blessing. If, however, they don't feel any different about our church, if they come to the conclusion that God is still God and the church continues to live out God's mission as it always has, then I will suggest that perhaps an amendment that changed ordination standards was not an amendment that destroyed the church.
This is a time of change for the church I love, and change is never easy. There will always be those who will choose to hold on to their fears. I, for one, will hold on to hope - because our God is a God of outlandish hope. I invite you to hold on to that hope with me too.
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(NOTE: Below is a message from Cynthia Bolbach, Moderator of the 219th General Assembly of the PCUSA, about the ratification of Amendment 10-A. I encourage you to take the 3.26 to watch it.)
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