First United Methodist Church

From the Pastor's Pen, April 2008:

“Turning the Corner”

As I sat down to write this column for the April newsletter, the first thing to pop into my head about April was the opening line of T.S. Eliot’s poem “The Waste Land.” (Don’t be overly impressed—I only remembered the first five words and had to Google search the rest of the sentence.)

“April is the cruelest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.”

I remember distinctly sitting in the freshman English class at Kellogg Community College and hearing the instructor, Mr. Bateman, read these lines and say, “It’s so true.” I thought at the time a) “I don’t get it”—a problem I still have with much poetry and b) “He’s awfully cynical.”

I’m probably now about the age Mr. Bateman was when he was teaching that group of idealistic, or worse, thoroughly bored freshmen, in an English class they had to take; hoping that something he’d say to them would unlock a love for literature. I’m sure he looked for the day when as he taught, somehow one of his students would “turn the corner” to be a great scholar or a critical thinker. Maybe now I’m cynical, too, in some ways. I know that as I look out the window at what I hope is the last snowstorm of this very long winter, I’m hoping for an April that is not cruel at all.

I’m hoping to turn the corner.

“Turning the corner” is a phrase I use most often in connection with preaching. I learned it from my friend Susan. There’s a moment in the sermon when you move from the illustrations and preliminary, introductory thoughts to the real meat, the heart of the message—the place where the Gospel steps on our toes or meets us at the point of our need, or moves us out of our comfort zone to a new insight. That turning point can be an amazing moment for both preacher and congregation, a point when folks in some more vocal church traditions might call out, “She’s preachin’ now!”

“Turning the corner” is a useful metaphor in other contexts, too. Mostly, as I started writing, I was thinking how nice it will be to turn the corner on winter and (eventually) welcome spring—in the weather, not just officially on the calendar. But we might also turn the corner with a personal insight that makes a change in our lives; in a new understanding of faith that evokes more loving behavior, a more Christlike life. Turning the corner might mean new growth in a friendship or a needed change in the way we treat others.

As a church, in our common life, what would it look like if we turned the corner together? What would it mean to us if in our every encounter with one another, we spoke the truth in love? How might we grow if we chose to become part of a Sunday School class or a Bible study, or attended worship more regularly? How might our life as a church be changed if we focused on reaching out people who have not been part of a church, or who have drifted away or been hurt? Or if we gave up some of our time to care for those in need, volunteer in an elementary school, work on a Habitat for Humanity house, or stand in solidarity with someone who is wrestling with a difficult decision?

This April in worship, we will hear stories of how the Risen Christ changed the lives of those to whom he appeared, and how he still changes lives today. Maybe even our own.

Sorry, Mr. Eliot, April is not the cruelest month. For us, people of faith, here at First United Methodist Church, April just might be the month in which we turn the corner. May it be a time of new growth—inside and out. May we turn the corner to be Easter people—living on our very being, with every bit of ourselves, what it means to follow the Risen Christ.

On the Journey with you,

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