Banner Newsletter, April 2020
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Each of our pastors has committed to send a reflection once a week. You can expect to<br />
receive a Note of Encouragement by email each Monday, Wednesday and Friday. Here<br />
is a sample, if you would like to sign up to receive these, please send your email to<br />
communications@barringtonumc.com.<br />
Maybe Twice Isn’t Enough<br />
I don’t know if I really feel like rejoicing right now. I’ve been running on adrenaline for<br />
a few weeks, rethinking how we can keep being communities of faith in the midst of<br />
a global pandemic, but now I’m coming back down to earth with a thud — like Wile E.<br />
Coyote in those old cartoons. With everything that is going on — the anxiety, the loss, the<br />
sadness — I don’t want to listen to Paul’s call.<br />
Reading this passage from Philippians again today, I had to step away from it for a<br />
moment. I have to take a deep breath and remember that Paul, who gives the command to<br />
“rejoice” to his friends in Philippi, was likely suffering. He was under house arrest. He was<br />
awaiting word from someone in an office far from him, and appealing to every power on<br />
earth and heaven with the hope he would be released. It<br />
seems quite grim, yet, to the people whom he loves, he<br />
says “Rejoice.”<br />
It is more than a suggestion to “be positive,” or “think<br />
happy thoughts.” It is a call to keep celebrating in spite<br />
of everything that is happening. Don’t worry. Instead,<br />
rejoice to turn the tide of pain.<br />
The struggles of the world should not preclude us from<br />
being joyful. In fact, operating from a core of joy — even<br />
if it is tiny — is necessary if we are to have any hope that<br />
the world can change. If we are unable to begin with<br />
joy, we fall prey to fatalism and despondency. This is<br />
why the Philippians are told twice to rejoice; it is that<br />
important to the future of faith and community.<br />
Maybe twice isn’t enough for us today. Maybe, for hope to thrive, we need to hear it<br />
thrice. Maybe it needs to be looped. Maybe it needs to be our alarm, our ringtone, and<br />
text notification sound. Rejoice, rejoice, rejoice, rejoice, rejoice, rejoice! Maybe we need to<br />
say it again and again — as many times as it takes — until we can actually do it.<br />
Say it again and again until it becomes your reality.<br />
Rejoice.<br />
Reboot, Renew, Reassess<br />
When I was a teenager, one of my best friends was Scott Lafoy. Scott and his family moved to<br />
Naperville and started attending Community UMC where my father was pastor and where I was<br />
very involved in the United Methodist Youth Fellowship. When Scott started attending youth<br />
group, we discovered that we shared a number of the same interests: sports, fishing, cars and<br />
girls as I recall. One other thing that Scott and I had in common was that we were both the sons<br />
of very “type A,” driven, workaholic fathers who were impatient and demanding.<br />
One day Moses Lafoy—Scott’s dad—suffered a massive heart attack on the floor of the Chicago<br />
Stock Exchange where he was a very successful trader. Moses Lafoy’s death was deeply troubling<br />
for me. In part because my friend had lost his father, but also because I was convinced that his<br />
death should have been a sign, a wakeup call to my own<br />
father. Of course, from my perspective, my father was too<br />
busy and preoccupied with living his calling as a pastor to<br />
see the handwriting on the wall and refused to slow down<br />
even a little bit.<br />
Later, I came to realize that God doesn’t work the way I<br />
thought. Moses Lafoy didn’t die to teach my father some<br />
kind of cosmic lesson; he died because he had heart disease<br />
exacerbated by the stress of job, his drive to achieve and<br />
what was likely an unhealthy lifestyle. And yet, as I have<br />
reflected on that terrible time, I have also come to realize<br />
that there are often lessons embedded in tragedy that we<br />
can learn when they are viewed through the eyes of faith.<br />
I wonder if we should pay attention to new perspectives<br />
this COVID-19 crisis provides for us. Perhaps this time of forced solitude can teach us the<br />
value of having friends we love, a community of faith that cares for us, and a church to journey<br />
with. Perhaps those of us who also struggle against those “type A” tendencies, who are driven<br />
to succeed, to acquire more and better stuff, or even to “save” the church, can take this<br />
opportunity to adopt healthier habits and routines.<br />
I want to encourage you to take time—forced upon us as it may be—to reboot, renew and<br />
reassess what is really important in life. Indeed, I would suggest that doing so is the most faithful<br />
response we can have in a time such as this. My prayer is that as we “shelter-in-place,” we<br />
would find shelter in the God who loves us and wants only the best for us, even as we know that<br />
suffering is part of the human condition.<br />
—Pastor Chris Winkler<br />
—Pastor Matthew Johnson<br />
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